tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19046856283708878992018-03-19T15:07:29.847-04:00The Murphey SagaThe ongoing saga or insanity of my family, writing, and the world in general...I'd spend all my time writing if LIFE didn't get in the way.J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.comBlogger768125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-58842197906036032762018-04-08T06:30:00.000-04:002018-03-13T11:41:55.987-04:00Sunday Stroke Survival: A Matter of Faith<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0rHraqS8ZzU/WqfcqFfj-xI/AAAAAAAAQSM/ZVNGuthSIGY2qGVgH4vp_fwlewTHrMIkACLcBGAs/s1600/cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="149" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0rHraqS8ZzU/WqfcqFfj-xI/AAAAAAAAQSM/ZVNGuthSIGY2qGVgH4vp_fwlewTHrMIkACLcBGAs/s200/cross.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>&nbsp;It being Sunday and I feel like preaching a bit from my living post stroke computer. So if you do not believe in God, He has this Word for you. Please don't post negative comments here. Send me an email. Thank you.<br /><br />It's hard to believe I'm approaching the six year anniversary of my first stroke. What a journey it's been so far. And yet, I'm still have faith of a full recovery. Huh? Why is that? From reading your blog, you've had nothing but problems since your stroke. How can you still believe God loves you? He allowed this to happen to you. How could a loving God do this to you? Why hasn't He healed you yet? You're a minister. Surely your testament of healing would bring hundreds to Him. I read it almost every week in emails.<br /><br />You've all heard that "God works in mysterious ways." What's so mysterious? Have you asked Him? Yes, repeatedly. He never answers me. Sure He does. Are you listening? Are you in a receiving mode of brain activity? Maybe, you aren't crossing your left eye, sticking your tongue out of the right side of your mouth, while wiggling your ears with your head cocked at just the right angle. Sometimes you feel like you have to do some asinine antics or rituals to make sure God is listening or it seems that way. You don't, by the way. Just talk to Him as you would a loved one or close friend. That's what He really wants. Do you only talk to him when the stuff hits the fan like a petulant child? I'm guilty of being a petulant child at times, but not this instance. Are you a nagging wife where God is concerned? Are nags ever listened to or a whiny child?<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JafMAcZVKws/Wqfhk91QMPI/AAAAAAAAQSc/lLdzeLsny9EqMD3dkRFRuWyqR02HiEtQgCLcBGAs/s1600/stronger%2Bin%2Bfaith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JafMAcZVKws/Wqfhk91QMPI/AAAAAAAAQSc/lLdzeLsny9EqMD3dkRFRuWyqR02HiEtQgCLcBGAs/s200/stronger%2Bin%2Bfaith.jpg" width="200" /></a>For me, God foretold that this would happen to me. I was early in my walk of faith. Although I received many blessings, I also had some pretty hefty travails. This continued for decades as I grew in faith and trust. Each time the travails got harder and harder. I might have wobbled from the blows, but I remained faithful as did God. Sounds like a parent teaching a child to swim, doesn't it. Believe me, I didn't understand at the time I just rolled with the punches. Each time I got stronger and stronger in faith. I never doubted the the rewards (blessings) with the triumph of the travail.<br /><br />Meanwhile, I thanked Him for His mercy when it was over. It's darn right impossible to see blessings through a storm. It's only in retrospect that most can feel how He carried us through the storm. Even the faithful can be shaken up one side to the other. I've had my own inklings with this over the decades.&nbsp; I'm only human. It's allowed. Just don't make it a life long ambition.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UX0TD0Qj96o/WqfoBEsCGhI/AAAAAAAAQSs/wwX0_DY2cHIB4k7zHQB90cR2G_lnDNJrACLcBGAs/s1600/travails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="279" height="129" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UX0TD0Qj96o/WqfoBEsCGhI/AAAAAAAAQSs/wwX0_DY2cHIB4k7zHQB90cR2G_lnDNJrACLcBGAs/s200/travails.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I've had more travails, over the my decades of faith, than anyone should be allowed to go through even at birth, but God had a plan for my life. He would allow me to be His mouthpiece. I used the phrase, "Scorched, but not consumed" in one of my novels. That's it in a nutshell. Through my travails, I've been scorched around the edges, but have not been consumed by them because of my faith. When I tell others what I have done and what I've endured in my life, they are amazed. They can't believe that so much could happen to one person and she still wears a smile, and professes faith. But I do, not always, but 98% of the time.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m-J4xacxhu8/Wqfpub3vDqI/AAAAAAAAQS4/9RdcutPMXaYqzMxvSEAp9IE9LGsQAOstgCLcBGAs/s1600/lead%2Bby%2Bexample.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m-J4xacxhu8/Wqfpub3vDqI/AAAAAAAAQS4/9RdcutPMXaYqzMxvSEAp9IE9LGsQAOstgCLcBGAs/s200/lead%2Bby%2Bexample.jpg" width="200" /></a>It wasn't until 2015, that someone gave me the name of my calling...a martyr. Like Job (thank God I'm not Job) in the Bible, God is using me to show His love and faithfulness to others in the present day. Those are some mighty big shoes to fill.&nbsp; Does it sound like I'm bragging? Believe me, I'm not. Nobody would want these shoes, I don't. He uses me as an example. Remember, I believe in leading by example. I can walk the walk and talk the talk. My perspective is focused, Been there (Am there). Done that (Going through it). Can I show you the way? How I cope? I never force feed anyone. God opens doors and windows even if it's just a crack you push through.<br /><br />The Lord is my shepherd. May the love and peace of the Lord be with and upon you.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br /><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-56925560355825755512018-03-18T06:30:00.000-04:002018-03-18T06:30:03.129-04:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Survivor's Lament<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LoFQFuD8-WI/WpLEeYgcR4I/AAAAAAAAQO8/3-JWECI6SGELAR5cUsZPmqKbAKCpFzzqwCLcBGAs/s1600/cannt%2Bdo%2Bnothing.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="400" height="125" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LoFQFuD8-WI/WpLEeYgcR4I/AAAAAAAAQO8/3-JWECI6SGELAR5cUsZPmqKbAKCpFzzqwCLcBGAs/s200/cannt%2Bdo%2Bnothing.png" width="200" /></a></div>If there's one lament about living post stroke that I hear the most it's "I just can't do nothing since my stroke!"<br /><br />Be it a stroke or any life altering event. The first thing everyone faced with it, their first inclination is to say this and throw up their hands in frustration. True? True. It's probably one of those human nature things that I was graced to be standing behind the door when it was passed out.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3BO2Q7qUPmY/WpLKuxRnWFI/AAAAAAAAQPM/-Uf0PmTt5lklvxFnmDxLtfIbrB5gXzABgCLcBGAs/s1600/girl%2Bbehind%2Bdoor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="728" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3BO2Q7qUPmY/WpLKuxRnWFI/AAAAAAAAQPM/-Uf0PmTt5lklvxFnmDxLtfIbrB5gXzABgCLcBGAs/s200/girl%2Bbehind%2Bdoor.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.wikihow.com/Be-a-Master-at-Hide-And-Seek" target="_blank">credit</a></td></tr></tbody></table>Yes, I'm blessed to have been standing behind the door on a lot of human nature things that plague so many. By the same token, I was probably jumping up and down waving wildly when it came to impatience and stubbornness. "Pick me. Oh, please pick me. I gotta have those! Give me a double helping!" I can see God in heaven shaking His head and going she's going to a handful. He wasn't wrong. &lt;grinning&gt; But He also blessed me with creativity, logic, problem solving, and a healthy dose of common sense too to balance the equation. Is it any wonder I call myself the queen of Abby Normal? By sheer nature, I'm a contradiction in terms. But, I digress (once again *sigh*) from today's topic.<br /><br />I always say, "Your attitude needs adjusting." Instead of "Get your head out of your backside," or " get off the self pity pot because someone else needs a turn." But that's basically what I mean. You've heard of the fifteen minutes of fame? I propose you apply the same approach to frustration and self pity. Okay, maybe thirty minutes. Your attitude is about the only thing you have control of after a stroke. Unless you have PBA like me from my stroke, but that's another thing entirely.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g4TyK_dTkw0/WpLQp65oe-I/AAAAAAAAQPc/uhbGkn4Djc4VmOF6vVPMX0TUfj42pNY6ACLcBGAs/s1600/pros%2Band%2Bcons.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="500" height="141" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g4TyK_dTkw0/WpLQp65oe-I/AAAAAAAAQPc/uhbGkn4Djc4VmOF6vVPMX0TUfj42pNY6ACLcBGAs/s200/pros%2Band%2Bcons.gif" width="200" /></a>Basically what I'm saying is your focus it twisted. Unless you really want to feel worthless, down trodden, and alone. Does anyone really WANT to feel this way? I know. I know. We all know someone it seems to want to live like this, but I'm assuming you are not them because you are reading this. Take stock of what you can do.<br /><br />Maybe you lost a lot with your stroke(s). I know I did. The laundry list of what I've lost, maybe forever, is huge. The inability to hold a job is the biggest for me because I loved my ministry and writing life. It takes a strong will to look at this list and&nbsp; say I give up, but I don't. My first winter, after my stroke, without knitting or spinning wool, was devastating to me. I'd only spent over thirty years doing it. The first Spring without a productive 1/4 acre garden was just as bad. Did I wallow in self pity? Honestly, I did a little, but I was also researching how to do these things I loved with my new impairments. Just the act of researching helped me off the ledge. It was doing something rather than giving in to my plight. (Remember the stubborn trait) By the next Spring, I had knitted little Easter bunnies for each of my grandchildren. By the year after, it was knitting elegant shawls for my family. Now, almost 6 years later, I'm spinning and knitting one handed all winter long again.<br /><br />I'm gardening too. Adaptive gardening techniques was also something I researched. I may not produce as much as I once did, but God's wisdom and grace has given me a smaller core family to provide for.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8uYKqXuHUYg/WpLWNbagRzI/AAAAAAAAQPs/R6H1ZkUDlJoKt39psJZTlNYIxBMkSfEAwCLcBGAs/s1600/pros%2Band%2Bcons%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="490" height="128" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8uYKqXuHUYg/WpLWNbagRzI/AAAAAAAAQPs/R6H1ZkUDlJoKt39psJZTlNYIxBMkSfEAwCLcBGAs/s200/pros%2Band%2Bcons%2B1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The list of pros and cons are still skewed because I'm living post stroke. But I truly believe in the "Nothing ventured. Nothing gained." saying. Just like before my strokes, the sky is the limit for what I can achieve or learn to do again. If I truly want to do something, I'll figure out a way to do it. Sometimes, the attempts are thumbs up, thumbs down, or thumbs neutral, but that doesn't stop me. I weigh the importance of my success against time, frustration, ability to repeat the process, and a long list of other things just like all the "norms" out there.<br /><br />So when hit with the survivor's lament of "I can't do nothing" buck up. There's a lot of things you still can do, if try and adapt. Don't sell yourself&nbsp; short. Take stock and figure out how you can.&nbsp; You can do it. I have faith in you. All it takes is the first baby step of wanting to do it. I say baby step but for some folks it's a huge one. It's taken over a year of talking about knitting one handed for a lady in my group to say, "Teach me." That's okay. She's doing it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br /><br /><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-13523847984790019422018-03-11T06:30:00.000-04:002018-03-11T06:30:06.724-04:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Arise and Walk Without Pain<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0VqDLbO_b70/WpA1IRuhNJI/AAAAAAAAQOQ/a9DZfErErWMbdzBM8Id7XcxH8FYG735_QCLcBGAs/s1600/no-pain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="304" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0VqDLbO_b70/WpA1IRuhNJI/AAAAAAAAQOQ/a9DZfErErWMbdzBM8Id7XcxH8FYG735_QCLcBGAs/s200/no-pain.jpg" width="197" /></a>This week seemed to be forever getting here. I am actually able to walk without pain! Let me revise that statement. I was able to walk short distances without pain. At least not the twisting knife in the foot pain I was in. I still have twinges when I climb stairs and am up on my feet too long. But, I'm giddily happy to be able to move again without pain.<br /><br />But my foot is healing! At least that's what the pain reduction means to me. Or, it might be the new rocker sole on my shoe that takes the pressure off the ball of my foot. Or, it could be my new AFO. This new one takes in account the atrophy in the calf muscle, supports my ankle better, it has a non articulating ankle now since I can't dorsiflex anymore and plus has a build up on one side that adjusts my stance in a more natural way. Don't worry if the neurosurgery works, they can put the hinge back in.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bz6R-9KXnxA/WohKKuXTw9I/AAAAAAAAQN4/QzoaN5CpsHIk4Tw7Kp25zhaTDCvQtzg9gCEwYBhgL/s1600/heel-to-toe-rocker-sole.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="526" height="108" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bz6R-9KXnxA/WohKKuXTw9I/AAAAAAAAQN4/QzoaN5CpsHIk4Tw7Kp25zhaTDCvQtzg9gCEwYBhgL/s200/heel-to-toe-rocker-sole.jpg" width="200" /></a>Walking with the rocker sole took some getting used to. It felt awkward at first because I was walking on my heel rather than the ball of my foot striking the surface first. But instantly, there was relief in each step. I had to learn a new balance point than the way I was walking with my old shoes. Instead of tripping over invisible lint on the carpet with the toe of my shoe, it's now at the arch of my foot. The dreaded invisible lint will trip me up for several months to come before it will be put to rest. Don't you just hate that? But to me, it's a small price to pay for being mobile on two legs.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UV6epKf7uyk/WpA-uXt5ZyI/AAAAAAAAQOg/VaccNSIEgAM2GnFSh_DTooOoPE2XbZepQCLcBGAs/s1600/Im%2Bthe%2Bcaptain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="340" height="158" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UV6epKf7uyk/WpA-uXt5ZyI/AAAAAAAAQOg/VaccNSIEgAM2GnFSh_DTooOoPE2XbZepQCLcBGAs/s200/Im%2Bthe%2Bcaptain.jpg" width="200" /></a>You gotta love doctors that will work with you rather ones that are captains of the ship. I wouldn't have any other kind. I hire or fire them, right? My primary care physician is no different. Other than my required twice a year wellness checks, I don't bother him unless I really need something. Sometimes, he's easier to access than my specialists (*ologists). This was the case with the order and documentation for my new AFO. I made the appointment and showed up three days later. First thing out of his mouth after "Hello" was "What do you need, Jo?" I like that.<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iyBj5zGMQrY/WpA_4mUCKwI/AAAAAAAAQOo/XivJyrqHd5wHQV2R7J429r6rXZnLYH_CwCLcBGAs/s1600/AFO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="232" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iyBj5zGMQrY/WpA_4mUCKwI/AAAAAAAAQOo/XivJyrqHd5wHQV2R7J429r6rXZnLYH_CwCLcBGAs/s200/AFO.jpg" width="136" /></a>After I explained what I needed and why, he examined my leg and AFO, my leg in the AFO while standing and walking. He's thorough and straight business jotting down high points on his notepad as he went. "This won't do. You have to have a new one. I'll be right back."<br /><br />He was gone twenty minutes. I could hear him outside at the nurse's station dictating. He came back in with four sheets (single spaced!) of documentation that was required. We chatted about my kidneys and the up coming aneurysm surgery for a few more minutes and like I said before about my kidneys...nothing can be changed was the general conclusion. He'll just monitor the progress of the failure. When it gets bad enough, he'll refer me the another specialist.<br /><br />That was it. All done except for dropping the paperwork off at Hanger Orthotics. I'm not going through that mess again like with my shoes last year. My doctor did add, if they need more information for them to call him. He'd write another chapter for them. He said the last ending with a throaty chuckle. Can you tell he's been around the block a few times in battling insurance companies and Medicare? That's what I love about older doctors, they know the ropes. I'm not opposed to holding their hand through the process, but it's refreshing to not have to.<br /><br />Not bad scurrying about for a month, is it? Usually, the hurry up and waits catch up to me. I'm just thankful, it all fell into place before I broke some more bones in my foot. Spring is coming and our busy time in the garden and orchard. The rabbits need to get their close haircuts (shearing) before the weather becomes unbearable for them and we've already got one hen showing signs of broodiness. Now, I just have to get my stamina built back up to handle it all. Don't worry, I will.<br /><br />After all...<br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-6451037909881319592018-03-04T06:30:00.000-05:002018-03-04T06:30:20.085-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Still Dealing with Broken Bones<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F7MRu7Y3vBs/WogwJ3kuL2I/AAAAAAAAQMw/YuJelNzbpTgxqAUfOmqoqZ68EFU1mJDgwCLcBGAs/s1600/days%2Bof%2Bmy%2Blife.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="133" data-original-width="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F7MRu7Y3vBs/WogwJ3kuL2I/AAAAAAAAQMw/YuJelNzbpTgxqAUfOmqoqZ68EFU1mJDgwCLcBGAs/s1600/days%2Bof%2Bmy%2Blife.png" /></a></div>The mini saga on my broken foot continues. I've spent the last couple of weeks dealing with how to prevent this happening again. And maybe in the process, getting my foot to heal faster. Try as I might. I just can't be totally nonweight bearing on my poor foot. My lifestyle, home, and vehicle are not set up for it. I want to say at&nbsp; this point, I'm so over this!<br /><br />In the morning, I don my sock and AFO. At this point my foot looks normal. I hobble to the bathroom bearing weight on my heel build up. Little, sharp twinges of pain shoot through my foot as I rise from the commode telling me that my foot is still broken and it wasn't a bad dream. Because of not wearing a shoe with my AFO, my foot inverts with each step as much as the AFO will allow. So begins my day.<br /><br />I hobble to my rollator sitting where I left it the night before...about ten steps from the bathroom door. I'll one legged roll it to my computer.I'll turn on my little electric heater. I'll read and answer my emails, scan the news, answer YouTube comments and play a couple of games on Pogo.com.&nbsp; Pogo.com has two daily challenges in various games so I'm not constantly playing the same games which is nice.<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BTH508Zyf2w/Wog6HGVV4zI/AAAAAAAAQNM/gKGLTS5c9HciZuCfPOYfytAaFDdpWe48gCLcBGAs/s1600/wood-stove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="256" height="172" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BTH508Zyf2w/Wog6HGVV4zI/AAAAAAAAQNM/gKGLTS5c9HciZuCfPOYfytAaFDdpWe48gCLcBGAs/s200/wood-stove.jpg" width="200" /></a>I use the heater to take the morning chill off me. If I'm still chilly by the time I finish my computer work, I'll one legged scoot to the wood stove. Try as I might, I can't make a fire sitting down. There's paper to crumble, an intricate pattern of various sized kindling to lay, and wood to be lifted into the side of the wood stove. It's just barely 7 AM by this time. If I'm chilly, Mel will be freezing when she gets up. While the kindling and wood catches, I'll still be running my personal heater.<br /><br />I'll sort through my morning and afternoon medications. My medications include Lasix, a potent diuretic.For the next three hours it's a race to see if I make it to the toilet in time. I was slow before living post stroke, but now it's ridiculous. It's a 50-50 shot whether I make it or not. I've gotten to where I keep an extra pair of panties, pants, and socks in the bathroom just in case. Yes, it's gotten that bad. The really bad part is none of the bathroom doors are wide enough for my rollator to fit through so I'm up walking again.<br /><br />I'll fix Mel's pot of tea and breakfast while I'm up fixing mine. Thank God I make in advance breakfast and freeze it. I made a month's worth of pancakes, French toast, and waffles before I broke my foot. We also do a "big" breakfast for dinner about once a week: bacon, grits, eggs and toast. All I have to do each morning is heat it up and prepare the fruit. Like other people drink coffee in the morning, we've got to have our hot tea for the caffeine jolt. At night, it's a pot of decaffeinated Earl Grey.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-txopKbndASw/Wog_g4bGkDI/AAAAAAAAQNc/ul7fanB2RxodDcqP73vGi3LR3PP9Ylg7gCLcBGAs/s1600/rooster_houdini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="341" data-original-width="277" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-txopKbndASw/Wog_g4bGkDI/AAAAAAAAQNc/ul7fanB2RxodDcqP73vGi3LR3PP9Ylg7gCLcBGAs/s200/rooster_houdini.jpg" width="161" /></a></div>After breakfast, I'm chomping at the bit to do something. I haven't seen the rabbits in a month! The rollator does not like the straw bedding in the rabbit barn. Same goes for the chickens in their coop. I've chatted with Little Red and Houdini (Hoo di hoo) as I come and go on one of my various trips out and about because these roosters are still free ranging to give the hens a break.<br /><br />But I'm nonweight bearing so I spin plarn or wool, or knit for a while until I'm bored with it, and then, it's back to the computer again. And so goes my days. <br /><br />That brings me to my latest quest...how to stop my foot from breaking again because of the spasticity and my AFO. I went to my brace maker. She cut the heel build up down by half. My contracted Achilles heel pulls a bit more but I can live with it. She also put a bar into the padding to keep the ball of my foot from striking so hard with each step and built up the side of my AFO so my inversion isn't so bad. She told me I need a new AFO. This one is only three years old and Medicare and my insurance only pays for a new one every five years. Caught between a rock and a hard place<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bz6R-9KXnxA/WohKKuXTw9I/AAAAAAAAQN4/QzoaN5CpsHIk4Tw7Kp25zhaTDCvQtzg9gCEwYBhgL/s1600/heel-to-toe-rocker-sole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="526" height="108" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bz6R-9KXnxA/WohKKuXTw9I/AAAAAAAAQN4/QzoaN5CpsHIk4Tw7Kp25zhaTDCvQtzg9gCEwYBhgL/s200/heel-to-toe-rocker-sole.jpg" width="200" /></a> once again. She also suggested putting a rocker sole on the bottom of my shoe on my affected side. It would cost $40 and my insurance doesn't cover it. I'd have to leave my shoe with the cobbler for a week. It's a good thing that I bought a second pair of shoes. I've got one in the shop now. The second pair will go in when the first ones are done.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XH4NCyI68C4/WohFotqz4SI/AAAAAAAAQNs/5kRkzeqA470FFvXdV8wm1tWIuo74kowGACLcBGAs/s1600/AFO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="232" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XH4NCyI68C4/WohFotqz4SI/AAAAAAAAQNs/5kRkzeqA470FFvXdV8wm1tWIuo74kowGACLcBGAs/s200/AFO.jpg" width="136" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">standard AFO</td></tr></tbody></table>After my brace maker made the adjustments to my AFO, I was praying hard for a solution to my AFO problem. Although I could charge it to a credit card, I didn't want to. It's another bill added to a fixed income that I had to pay. Well, my prayer was answered. We'd fight the rule (again). But instead of my doctors starting a letters to get it qualified like last time, all I'd have to do is get my doctor to document the changes to my foot because of the spasticity. I could do that! I might mention here that my brace maker, the shoe place, and my PCP are all 30 miles away in a neighboring town. So I've been up and driving around too.<br /><br />I've just have to hang on until May when I'm scheduled for my rhizotomy. If that alone doesn't markedly reduce my spasticity, I can do Botox again. It's now been nine months since my last injections. More&nbsp; than enough time for the Botox to get totally out of my system. Maybe, it'll work better like when I first got them. At least that's what I'm praying for if I need Botox again. Maybe, I can again be making forward strides in stroke recovery again.<br /><br />But this will be a busy year for me and doctors as if it hasn't been already.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rEkOVSWZr1k/WohK4S7RGZI/AAAAAAAAQOA/HR4k0uJZHCYqNFga6mV_ThyrdF2XZphKACLcBGAs/s1600/doh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="217" data-original-width="234" height="184" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rEkOVSWZr1k/WohK4S7RGZI/AAAAAAAAQOA/HR4k0uJZHCYqNFga6mV_ThyrdF2XZphKACLcBGAs/s200/doh.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>At my cardiologist's office, I was greeted by the news that I now have three aortic aneurysms. One in my abdomen and two in the femoral arteries (in each leg). As if three bad valves and an electrical problem in my heart weren't bad enough. The arteries are bad enough that they have to be fixed or they'll rupture killing me. That's slated for sometime this early summer.<br /><br />My yearly blood work showed some areas of concern mainly my kidneys. The tests showed moderate kidney damage/disease. So, I'm being watched for that. I know the culprits- A bad family history and the drugs I have to be on. I can't do anything about either, but pray. You know if it wasn't for my body working against me, I'd live on this Earth forever. But that's not going to keep me from trying. God willing.<br /><br />Oh, and about my foot. When I go to bed at night, I pull off my AFO and sock. I'm greeted by my red, angry cartoon foot. You know the one where the swelling is so bad it looks like a balloon? Below the spandex support is rounded with swelling. My toes look like Vienna sausages wedged in those little tin cans. Well, I try to be nonweight bearing.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-3214787912073008802018-02-25T06:30:00.000-05:002018-02-25T06:30:10.870-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: How to Grow a Stroke Support Group<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HMSVoKVeAvg/WnTbZBzhsoI/AAAAAAAAQKk/-c7WcLKM5mUz55_8NS54hwLFrt-SHUyBgCLcBGAs/s1600/stroke-support.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="600" height="83" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HMSVoKVeAvg/WnTbZBzhsoI/AAAAAAAAQKk/-c7WcLKM5mUz55_8NS54hwLFrt-SHUyBgCLcBGAs/s200/stroke-support.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>True to my New Year's Resolution in 2017, I became more active in my area's stroke survivor's support group. My old group was huge&nbsp; (over 200 members on the books). Needless to say, when I got here there were only about ten members. No more than one or two couples attended a meeting besides me.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong, the group's coordinators try, but for them it's a add-on to their jobs as social workers and patient counselors at the hospital where they work. They are juggling like mad. So enter little old me who was previously involved with a very active group. Of course, this isn't a very large community either. But I know strokes and brain injury survivors exist here&nbsp; also and more than 10. According to Wikipedia, there are 43,000 folks here. Granted there were only 295,000 strokes worldwide last year. (WHO stat) It might be the 5th largest cause of death, but there were survivors too just like me and you.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n56EJj1B160/WnnXubSRzhI/AAAAAAAAQK0/B0Lnuq8AyQEtiZBUJ54i5lqIuC2AaXJCACLcBGAs/s1600/what%2Bthe%2Bhell_WTH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="212" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n56EJj1B160/WnnXubSRzhI/AAAAAAAAQK0/B0Lnuq8AyQEtiZBUJ54i5lqIuC2AaXJCACLcBGAs/s200/what%2Bthe%2Bhell_WTH.jpg" width="178" /></a>So you look for a support group after your stroke, hopefully you find a robust one like I first did. Or you find one with not much to offer. That does not fill your needs at all. You want communication with other survivors, You want to know that you are not the only one going through all of this. You want a good source of information. You want to find out what resources are available for you. You want a bonafide stroke support group. But yours isn't or the leaders are just going through the motions because of time constants like mine is now. How do you get what you want?<br /><br />You grow a stroke support group.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eVLAPqd_534/WnnYE9IPyeI/AAAAAAAAQK4/FjVhk6qdUlk6G7IoZSDvzswoQZGSKkiHACLcBGAs/s1600/roadblocks1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="811" height="131" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eVLAPqd_534/WnnYE9IPyeI/AAAAAAAAQK4/FjVhk6qdUlk6G7IoZSDvzswoQZGSKkiHACLcBGAs/s200/roadblocks1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Things that may stop you in your tracks and seem overwhelming at first. Remember, what I discussed with you about <a href="http://jomurphey.blogspot.com/2018/02/sunday-stroke-survival-its-overwhelming.html" target="_blank">overwhelming</a> a couple of weeks ago?&nbsp; How do you get stroke survivors to know you exist? How to promote a stroke support group? How to keep it interesting? How to get people to attend? There are a lot of questions you may ask. The main ones being what can I do about it? Can I change it? Is it set in stone or will the people in charge allow you to help? They may honestly, like the way the group is. It's less work. Here are some steps to get you started. If all parties are agreeable. It was what I was going to do the first part of this year before I broke my foot.<br /><br /><br /><b>Offer refreshments</b><br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tER5-MhPyi4/Wnn-UmyOb_I/AAAAAAAAQLM/j6GP7sxQWEMTwI7KNnqbPhPt-phhVhCOgCLcBGAs/s1600/small%2BChristmas%2Btree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tER5-MhPyi4/Wnn-UmyOb_I/AAAAAAAAQLM/j6GP7sxQWEMTwI7KNnqbPhPt-phhVhCOgCLcBGAs/s200/small%2BChristmas%2Btree.jpg" width="133" /></a>It's only common courtesy. I started small the end of last year by providing refreshments at each meeting. It was simple finger sandwiches, munchies, sweets, and drinks. Our last meeting was before Christmas so I picked a Christmas themed layout for the spread. I made Christmas cookies, cup cakes, fudge, and chicken and egg salad sandwiches. Of course, this wasn't only for the stroke meeting but Christmas gifts for my neighbors too. For drinks, it was Dollar Store finds...cola, diet cola, a lemon-lime soda, and water. A little bit for every taste.<br /><br />Since we meet every two months, this meeting was shrimp salad and deviled ham sandwiches, raspberry cheesecake brownies, heart shaped cookies, red velvet cupcakes, and my sugar free, low carb truffles. It was close to Valentine's Day after all. So, it was red and pink colored everything. Again, Dollar Store to the rescue for drinks. It was doable even with a broken foot.<br /><br />That takes care of the members we already had. On average, we have less than ten at any meeting for right now. I always make enough for 12 just in case. Whatever is leftover goes to the floors for the nurses at the hospital where the meetings are held. It was something I could do and was good at to try and boost attendance.<br /><br />For our next meeting in April, it's April showers bring May flowers themed. I haven't decided on the menu yet. But you can bet that flowers will be involved.&nbsp; I'm a former chef and caterer so planning food events is one of my fortes. I realize this is not everyone's. Simply drinks and cookies will suffice. Maybe the hospital cafeteria can help. If nothing else, it's free food for attendees.<br /><br /><b>Keep it interesting</b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z6S_pBsq5AA/WnoCH5KMjfI/AAAAAAAAQLY/-F381Y7nWr4f5uGNiYuC17BliX0UoKtfgCLcBGAs/s1600/speaker%2Bpodium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="347" height="199" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z6S_pBsq5AA/WnoCH5KMjfI/AAAAAAAAQLY/-F381Y7nWr4f5uGNiYuC17BliX0UoKtfgCLcBGAs/s200/speaker%2Bpodium.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Next was getting together with the powers that be. I wanted to run all the ideas for possible speakers to the group. Figuring five speakers a year talking on subjects that interest stroke survivors and caregivers. (one meeting is set aside for planning) Some possible topics pharmacy, Medicare, disability resources in the county, physical therapy, a psychiatrist/ psychologist for depression/grief counseling, urologist, and heck I have a long laundry list of folks as possible speakers. Have something interesting to learn. How many times have you read, said or thought, 'It's not rocket science!' At our stroke meeting in February, we had a speaker who is a stroke survivor and a rocket scientist.<br /><br /><b>Getting new members&nbsp;</b><br /><br />The easiest way to get possible members is to invite a stroke survivors that you meet when you are out and about. Word of mouth is fantastic for letting other folks know you have a group. Other referral sources include doctors, hospitals, nursing care facilities, assisted living facilities, and so on. For this approach you need to have a few things. Business cards with a contact number or/and an email address. A brochure is useful because you can leave a handful at each spot. Flyers and/or postcard sized info blurbs will also work. They are easily designable on a home computers and printers to begin with to hold down costs. That way you have a silent salesman working. Be sure to replenish them every month or so.<br /><br />Where to leave promotional items...<br /><ul><li>Doctor's offices- PCPs, neurologist, heck, any doctor office, but be sure to ask first. Be sure to drop some off with the social workers at neighboring hospitals too. </li><li>Physical therapy locations- every stroke survivor goes to these especially in the beginning. Remember, not only the hospital based departments, but the private ones too.</li><li>How about your local drug store?</li><li>Most stores and restaurants have a community board. Be sure to have thumb tacks and place several.</li><li>Visiting new stroke patients in the hospital. Check with your local hospital for permission. </li></ul>I'm not saying you have to hit all of these spots at once. Just carry some with you when you go to these places. If you as a stroke survivor or caregiver goes to these places, you can bet others do too.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W2uCWC6VxMk/WnoJePesPvI/AAAAAAAAQLw/XJvmn0ehDdkFlN05QLw6pGQkjQJDBoO9gCLcBGAs/s1600/extra%2Bnews.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W2uCWC6VxMk/WnoJePesPvI/AAAAAAAAQLw/XJvmn0ehDdkFlN05QLw6pGQkjQJDBoO9gCLcBGAs/s200/extra%2Bnews.jpg" width="200" /></a>Even after doing all these things, you may not get more members immediately. I didn't join a support group until a year after my stroke although my speech therapist mentioned it every visit. But I knew one existed. The problem for here is that no one knows about the group. I have a big mouth where a good thing is involved. Or, even something that could be great with a little push.<br /><br />There doesn't have to be a grand scheme to grow a stroke group, but there are methods that work. It won't get any worse with no effort, but you aren't getting the support group you want and would like&nbsp; to have either. All's it takes is one person. More if you can get it. Just like with planting flower seeds. You hope to have gorgeous blooms. But before you have them a little work is needed. You have to prepare the soil, plant the seeds, give them water, and maybe a little fertilizer before it can grow. This blog is the seed and some basic information on how to grow it like a seed packet. The effort is yours.<br /><br /><b>&nbsp;Getting attendance</b><br /><br />The other issue which may confront you is survivors who cannot get to meetings. Public transport for the disabled is not available. They have no full time or part time caregivers that can drive them to a meeting.&nbsp; Can a current member pick up one extra person or several before the meeting? This is the easiest solution to get bodies at a meeting.<br /><br />Form a buddy system within your group. Where each member is on a call tree for another member. In this way, you find out what is going on with other members and it's not all on you. Delegate. <br /><br /><b>Future possibilities</b><br /><br />Later on down the road, your stroke group can offer crafting or pottery classes. I do a loom knitting class for ours. Maybe yoga or Tai chi classes. Extra speech/communication get togethers. Special holiday events/outings or dinners in between meetings. The possibilities are endless. But first, with a little TLC you have to grow your stroke support group.<br /><br />Remember, enthusiasm is infectious. Share your vision and thoughts with others. A shared vision has power.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br /><br /><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-10798326999503019912018-02-18T06:30:00.000-05:002018-02-18T06:30:00.278-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: How Pets Help Motivate You After a Stroke<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Nlh2E5Q9uIA/WmuZwgbAQOI/AAAAAAAAQIw/XCdUYc88Gisnmt2ZYEFHnDZFVgGT5uzNQCLcBGAs/s1600/days%2Bof%2Bmy%2Blife.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="133" data-original-width="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Nlh2E5Q9uIA/WmuZwgbAQOI/AAAAAAAAQIw/XCdUYc88Gisnmt2ZYEFHnDZFVgGT5uzNQCLcBGAs/s1600/days%2Bof%2Bmy%2Blife.png" /></a></div>A pet in your house after a stroke is a must/must not argument. They have their pluses and minuses. I know people who have given away their pets post stroke, but I kept mine and even added to their number since moving to northeast Georgia. I'm not talking about service animals here, but pets.<br /><br />Pets are a huge responsibility (as big as children) which is a good and bad thing living post stroke. On one hand they have to be cared for, loved, and are almost constant companions. But on the other hand, it may be more responsibility than you can handle just after a stroke and they pose a fall hazard. As with all things in life, you weigh the good and the bad in the decision making process.<br /><br />The bad-<br />The fall hazards of owning a pet is a real concern. If they were in your home before your stroke, after a stroke your movements are not the same as the animal is used to. It will take some time for you both to get used to each other again. In this adjustment period missteps happen.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gf6rm5rPdG4/Wmugwq1EagI/AAAAAAAAQJI/4l2xrndSVX8DYq31_Y9z5s6hpnhBNilPgCLcBGAs/s1600/Patches.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="231" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gf6rm5rPdG4/Wmugwq1EagI/AAAAAAAAQJI/4l2xrndSVX8DYq31_Y9z5s6hpnhBNilPgCLcBGAs/s200/Patches.JPG" width="194" /></a>My older cat, Patches, threw me off balance as I opened the door to let her out. It was in the first month I was home from the hospital after my stroke. The resulting fall caused an AC ligament tear in my shoulder that took months to heal (surgical repair was not an option). I lost valuable rehab time during the golden 6 month period of my recovery due to this injury.<br /><br />Now, almost 6 years post stroke, Patches will look up at me while I'm moving. She's quick to move away from me if I start to fall. It only took one time of me falling on her to teach her this. When I climb up stairs, she's only one step ahead of me. Most times when she trips me up is a miscalculation on her part between our mobile speeds and distance. But she's gotten pretty good at these calculations.<br /><br />The good-<br />This same cat will escort me to and from my van. If I take longer than usual to get out of my van, she'll jump on the running board to check on me. Because of the way my spasticity hurts me worse in colder and damper weather, she will lay her full body length on my spastic arm to keep it warm at night. I don't know how she knows how to do this, but she does. If I'm outside, she's no more than ten steps (her steps) away from me. She'll play in the tall grasses and weeds that I pull for the rabbits. Her antics of tiger in the grass always puts a smile on my face. She is my shadow.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zc_17cE2o2U/WmukyDVrU7I/AAAAAAAAQJY/9B1fpAh2W1M1zISDKX1kkoXMXbT8h9YTACLcBGAs/s1600/lil%2Bbit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="164" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zc_17cE2o2U/WmukyDVrU7I/AAAAAAAAQJY/9B1fpAh2W1M1zISDKX1kkoXMXbT8h9YTACLcBGAs/s1600/lil%2Bbit.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm envious of her black eyeliner</td></tr></tbody></table>Lil Bit waits on me with a go ahead command so we never collide. She doesn't race me to a location but waits for me to get settled so that I can give her undivided attention. Even when she was little, she waited on commands from me. She's very timid when it comes to interactions with her new housemates.<br /><br />She always makes herself known to me so I know where she is. She hasn't tripped me or made me fall yet. She's always aware of her surroundings and she's as much my comforter as I am hers. She lulls me to sleep each night with her purrs. She awakens me each morning with gentle licks with the tip of her tongue on whatever body part is exposed. If she really is insistent on waking me up, she'll use the rough part of her tongue on my eyelid. At these times there's danger. She used to wake me up when my beloved was alive and in trouble.<br /><br />My puppies, the German&nbsp; Shepherds, were sold before I moved to northeast Georgia, but we were assimilated into a new pack of pets with the move.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-66l8hBH_O90/WmuoFmPqs3I/AAAAAAAAQJk/j4EGTiAJk_4FLVnyo6k3mn8JkBgUpP8OACLcBGAs/s1600/nnyus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="196" data-original-width="196" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-66l8hBH_O90/WmuoFmPqs3I/AAAAAAAAQJk/j4EGTiAJk_4FLVnyo6k3mn8JkBgUpP8OACLcBGAs/s200/nnyus.JPG" width="200" /></a>Nnyus, a pit bull/ridge back mix dog, is as gentle as they come so long as you are not a predator.&nbsp; Her main danger to me is her rambunctious nature and her whip like tail. She's been great at helping me keep my balance. She's just the right size to help me up too if I've fallen. If I fall, she's right there licking me into submission. Her soft brown eyes full of concern. If I can't get up, she'll bark until Mel comes to see what she is barking at.<br /><br />She is deathly afraid of snakes even yarn ones, she'll "dog scream" and run away. It's hilarious to watch her do this when I drop a few rows of knitting on the floor. <br /><br />Strangers are afraid to get out of their cars or trucks at the sight of her. She's got the distinctive pit bull squared head and body, but the long snout of a hound. She's harmless unless you hurt those that she's protecting. To predators like coyotes, raccoons, and wolves she's lethal. She even chases deer off our property to my dismay during hunting season.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O_vB4itDUng/WmurayaNJCI/AAAAAAAAQJw/kudSOXtWX4cCyROR8iuyzcWQGOLTnOqnACLcBGAs/s1600/Herbie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="291" data-original-width="231" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O_vB4itDUng/WmurayaNJCI/AAAAAAAAQJw/kudSOXtWX4cCyROR8iuyzcWQGOLTnOqnACLcBGAs/s200/Herbie.JPG" width="158" /></a></div>Herbie, a border terrier, is&nbsp; like all terriers. A more loyal as a companion as you could ever wish for. He's constantly at my feet. Ever watchful for any movement. But like most terriers, he's very vocal about everything. His allergies to fleas causes him to bite and chew himself much to his whining aggravation. He's stubborn and argumentative.<br /><br />Although Mel taught him how to whisper (gruffle rather than bark), He has to agree with the command for him to comply. Several times a night we are awakened by his agitation at the fleas or something else that's popped into his head. 'Hey, it's getting colder in here. Get up and tend to the fire.' 'Hmm, I'm awake and everybody is sleeping. I'm lonely.' It will set him off barking until someone gets up. Usually, it's me. That suits him just fine.<br /><br />If anything this little dog is too smart for his own good because when we get aggravated at him we make him go outside. Now that I'm sort of laid up with a broken foot, he'll make a bee line to under Mel's bed. He knows I can't balance well enough to chase him outside. But even given that, he has become my dog. If I go outside, he follows me. When I drive off, he sits on the porch until I return. When he sees my van coming down the driveway, he gives a series of happy barks as if saying, "She's home! Jo's back!"<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_2B9t51ys8/WmvI1-w00KI/AAAAAAAAQKI/8pvBjQIbk5UIw6XHhzNP2x8C4E9jgJeQgCLcBGAs/s1600/Dervish.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="313" data-original-width="173" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_2B9t51ys8/WmvI1-w00KI/AAAAAAAAQKI/8pvBjQIbk5UIw6XHhzNP2x8C4E9jgJeQgCLcBGAs/s200/Dervish.JPG" width="110" /></a>That leads me to Ms. Whirling Dervish. She's Mel's service cat. Derv has been queen of her domain. She and Patches went round and round in a power struggle when I first came here. They have decided on splitting the power for the sake of peace in the realm.<br /><br />I swear this cat is an alcoholic. She actually has a specific cry for wine.&nbsp; But it has to be red wine. Mel will give her finger droplets of the beverage. But she'll also drink screwdrivers. Usually cats will turn their noses up at citrus, but not her. If Mel is drinking it, it must be okay and she wants some too. She'll even lift a paw and points to the glass to let Mel know when she when she wants more.&nbsp; If Mel leaves her glass on the table and goes to the bathroom, the cat will help herself to the drink sticking her whole head in a glass to lap it up.<br /><br />Needless to say, Mel and this cat have a special relationship. Wherever Mel goes Derv is sure to be within ear shot. Occasionally, she will allow me to pay homage to her.<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Ds1062O2ZA/WmvM44bIj4I/AAAAAAAAQKU/5uDUkEdreUYUBUgmEY2MIOQ41fALKLXaACLcBGAs/s1600/Flynn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="126" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Ds1062O2ZA/WmvM44bIj4I/AAAAAAAAQKU/5uDUkEdreUYUBUgmEY2MIOQ41fALKLXaACLcBGAs/s1600/Flynn.JPG" /></a>And last but hardly least is Flynn. She's the baby we found abandoned in our lower acreage this past spring. This baby is definitely Mel's baby. If she isn't playing, eating, or sleeping she is cuddling with Mel. She's already learning how not to streak between my legs.&nbsp; She hasn't made me fall yet, but close. I rarely see this kitten walk by. It's always a blur of orange and cream. Everything is a toy to her even little scraps of wood. She's just so cute you can't stay mad at her. <br /><br />&nbsp;This little kitten started her day like normal by harassing Lil Bit and playing with Patches, and then she went outside to have fun with the chickens. Her idea of fun with the chickens is to hide in the Monkey grass or bushes and jump out at them. She has great fun watching them squawk and jump straight up. Unfortunately, this week, she ran into a snake to play with. It was poisonous and we lost Flynn. We dutifully killed the snake. All the rain we've had are driving them out of the woods.<br /><br />All these new pets have had to learn that I'm not stable when I'm walking by. They give me a wide berth. We tend to watch out for each other. I'm watching where I step to keep an even foot step and by the same token, they are watching me.<br /><br />Having household pets takes diligent caution on everyone's part to keep accidents at bay, but the rewards are priceless. In my mind they are well worth the trouble of owning them. I've had animals all my life so it's natural for me. Cleaning up messes on the floor that they make (pee, poop, vomit, shredded paper, etc), changing litter boxes, and feeding and grooming comes as second nature to me although challenging just after my stroke. My dogs enjoyed baths while Mel's don't. So she washes them.<br /><br />I get genuine companionship from these pets. Each in their own way. They change my focus from me to them. It allows me to care for something other than myself. Having something to care for is motivation to get up and do which is very important after a stroke.&nbsp; Motivation is hard to maintain in the long race to recovery or even day to day life. Pets will make me smile even when all I feel like doing is cry. My pets, I think I'll keep them.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-56384948788780294582018-02-12T12:11:00.001-05:002018-02-12T12:11:54.137-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Hello,Hello Out There?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R_sEUAunpbA/WoG7WXNkSEI/AAAAAAAAQME/Mcd2wZ0XhCAtI83YHLT3Ys_l2BofTztYwCLcBGAs/s1600/who%2527s%2Bthere%2Bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="307" height="117" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R_sEUAunpbA/WoG7WXNkSEI/AAAAAAAAQME/Mcd2wZ0XhCAtI83YHLT3Ys_l2BofTztYwCLcBGAs/s200/who%2527s%2Bthere%2Bowl.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Are you new strokee (survivor)? Are you an old strokee that's part of the stroke tribe (members of the now defunct Stroke Tattler)? Are you a new member of one of the other organizations that redistribute my blogs? Did you just surf the web and decided to read my blog? You've been reading (lurking) my blog for a while now but did so anonymously? Did you find this blog via one of my books?<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zeVdMzQbrhM/WoG-P0Hsq6I/AAAAAAAAQMQ/_ycfkoBfFCQu9NEB7SoPFbRqUHo99PDwACLcBGAs/s1600/mailbox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="135" data-original-width="200" height="135" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zeVdMzQbrhM/WoG-P0Hsq6I/AAAAAAAAQMQ/_ycfkoBfFCQu9NEB7SoPFbRqUHo99PDwACLcBGAs/s200/mailbox.jpg" width="200" /></a>I know you are out there. I get some 1,000 plus views per blog post. I get some 30-50 emails about my blogs any given week. But what about the rest of you? I hear y'all. "And you're complaining?" No, I'm not. Honestly, I'm not. I'm thrilled. I'm just curious to how you found my little blog and who you are. This inquiring mind here wants to know. I know where my old timers are from. I've frequented many of their sites..although I've been lazy about adding my comments for the past year or so. I'm still reading them. The stroke tribe and I have a cemented in concrete relationship starting with the Stroke Tattler. The Tattler was my first organization that redistributed my blog some five years ago. About ten nationally and internationally now have my permission to do so in bits and pieces or in its entirety.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VUMEIhwcJYU/WoHEoxQv4mI/AAAAAAAAQMg/_wX15XQVyv4tqexg-L6dVw1BsQOFHEmmwCLcBGAs/s1600/click%2Bmouse.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="728" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VUMEIhwcJYU/WoHEoxQv4mI/AAAAAAAAQMg/_wX15XQVyv4tqexg-L6dVw1BsQOFHEmmwCLcBGAs/s200/click%2Bmouse.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>My followers haven't increased numerically. Of course they may be followers from somewhere else&nbsp; than I keep track of too. I have heard from a few that do not have a Google membership to comment on my blogs via email. Many of whom email me frequently. Everyone else is a mystery. All these views cannot be a click by mistake because they are consistent across the board. But if you clicked on me by mistake and decided to stay a while that's okay too.<br /><br />I am actually puzzled about this. So hello, hello out there! Welcome to my blog family. If you feel like answering pipe up in comments or by email. Even send me a line via facebook. Although I don't frequent that website as much as I used to. My curiosity is aroused. Let me know who sent you so I might thank them.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-51319864577508867592018-02-11T06:03:00.000-05:002018-02-11T06:03:19.808-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Killer Inactivity<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_hBFh7dHkCw/WmcJyfhzWcI/AAAAAAAAQHw/-r4uEw8uHNYVyPNd2E8UZxrdZ7pQcwhIACLcBGAs/s1600/couch%2Bpotato.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_hBFh7dHkCw/WmcJyfhzWcI/AAAAAAAAQHw/-r4uEw8uHNYVyPNd2E8UZxrdZ7pQcwhIACLcBGAs/s200/couch%2Bpotato.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.spinrilla.com/mixtapes/boss-luchie-couch-potato-2-cp2-hosted-by-dj-837https://www.spinrilla.com/mixtapes/boss-luchie-couch-potato-2-cp2-hosted-by-dj-837" target="_blank">Credit</a></td></tr></tbody></table>For someone like me, inactivity is almost a fate worse than death.&nbsp; It has never been my style. Just after my first stroke in the acute wing of the hospital, I was going nuts and that was only four days!<br /><br />Now, a couple of weeks has gone by since I broke my foot. I'm definitely going insane. The pain in my foot has not abated. It isn't any better. Even the new x-rays show no healing. Absolutely none. So my forced inactivity continues and I'm bored. There's only so much Netflix, computer time, spinning, and knitting I can do. Coupled by a spell of warmer weather (60s), I wanted to be out in the outside and doing.<br /><br />Do I sound whinny? I know I am. I should be grateful that more bones didn't and haven't broken. I am but not really. I'm yearning for my old life where I could escape for hours or days writing. That's how I survived the months after I broke my toes last time. I find myself complaining a lot, and that's not me either. But, I'm having a hard time stopping myself from voicing my frustration.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-slPQixIP_BM/WmcRHBGPV9I/AAAAAAAAQIA/Z9LZ-P3tQ0A3oZZauHWvAXp4IKKogwqWACLcBGAs/s1600/insulin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="825" height="123" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-slPQixIP_BM/WmcRHBGPV9I/AAAAAAAAQIA/Z9LZ-P3tQ0A3oZZauHWvAXp4IKKogwqWACLcBGAs/s200/insulin.jpg" width="200" /></a>I may not be a diabetic anymore, but the diabetic neuropathy in my legs, and slow healing associated with diabetes continue on as if I was. So does the poor circulation to my lower extremities. It's maddening! You do everything right and it still kicks you in the hinny. It ranks right up there with post stroke spasticity.<br /><br />Speaking of spasticity, I'm still in a holding pattern with Emory neurosurgery. The first appointment available is not until May! I know you were wondering.<br /><br />I'm in another Catch-22 with my foot healing. The build up on the heel of my AFO causes more pressure on my lower foot. Thus it causes stress fractures from just walking with it. But I need the build up because of the Achilles tendon contracture. I can't even get therapy or do exercises to stretch my Achilles tendon, like I was doing, because of the fractures. I do alright, most days, with wearing my AFO only inside the house. But Lord help me when I have to wear a shoe. The pressure of the shoe sends me back to the initial pain. Pain levels to 9 or 10 out of 10.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iKhpZTfqj7s/WmcSaLc669I/AAAAAAAAQII/1zrlsK30sg0LWHy_lEEGd-BFgFDy-JrfQCLcBGAs/s1600/iwalk%2Bcrutch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iKhpZTfqj7s/WmcSaLc669I/AAAAAAAAQII/1zrlsK30sg0LWHy_lEEGd-BFgFDy-JrfQCLcBGAs/s200/iwalk%2Bcrutch.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Rethinking the Iwalk crutch. Ease of use with the Iwalk crutch is dependent on a normal gait and balance. It isn't recommended for anyone who has balance issues. Living post stroke, like I am, I do not have a normal gait or balance. I'm constantly stumbling on invisible lint on the floor. The terrain, where I live, is not level so I'm constantly stepping up and down on angles. Considering all that, my balance, though better than it was, is still not great and I'm still prone to fall.<br /><br />That brings me to another point against the Iwalk crutch. To sit or drive, you have to take it off. That means undoing the three straps to take it off and redoing them and tightening them up again every time I got up. With two working hands and good balance, it might not be so hard, but for impaired me? Can you see me going to the store?&nbsp; I'll get to my car, sit catty corner on the edge front seat (remember when you sit the crutch part is sticking straight out so the car door is a factor), drive to the store and do the same thing in reverse before even entering the store. I might mention here that on the plus side of this equation, all the buckles and adjustment straps are on the inside the thigh and calf (easier to access). You would repeat the whole process to go home. Even for someone without chronic fatigue this would be taxing. The only good thing is that I wouldn't need a motorized cart to shop with.<br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cdzHjWxEuBE/WmcZJe6hutI/AAAAAAAAQIg/vbjYzcmBkbYdf9g5fyyVKLz-paFR0GjSwCLcBGAs/s1600/knee%2Bscooter.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cdzHjWxEuBE/WmcZJe6hutI/AAAAAAAAQIg/vbjYzcmBkbYdf9g5fyyVKLz-paFR0GjSwCLcBGAs/s200/knee%2Bscooter.jpeg" width="200" /></a><br />So basically, I sit at home. When I do go anywhere, like to therapy or the drug store, I'll painfully put on my shoes. The shoe adds to the pressure on the fractured bones. In the house, I'll just don my AFO only. (I know, I know. You're not supposed to)&nbsp; I take my rollator to the car. But first I have to manhandle the rollator down three steps. Painful process. I manhandle the rollator into the back seat, pivot with my back to the van into the front seat of my van, and repeat the process when I get to therapy. I'd have to do the same with a knee scooter.Then again, it supposedly takes two hands to operate just like my rollator. But I manage okay so long as there are no drastic inclines or declines.<br /><br />So that leads me back to killer inactivity. Mel is having to do everything and I feel about useless. I will occasionally cook.I can periodically put my weight on the AFO build up in the heel, but the spasticity on my foot causes my toes to curl under and my big toe to arch up. If I stand for too long the spasticity combined with muscle spasms which twists my foot and&nbsp; put pressure on the fractures too. The strap on my AFO that prevents this cuts right across the fractures causing pain. I can stand bearing most of my weight on my functioning leg or sitting on the rollator's seat. Keep in mind that none of our cabinets or appliances are the right height. Being short, I'm about nose level to whatever I'm doing in the kitchen. Not exactly safe but it gives Mel a break. It also breaks up my boring day to day existence.<br /><br />I do try to keep my brain active. I play games like Tripeaks and Scrabble on the computer, but after an hour of playing these, I&nbsp; quickly get bored with these. I'll watch YouTube, but then I'll be chomping at the bit to do or try something only to be stopped by my foot.<br /><br />Another three weeks til the next set of x-rays. But, I'm using pain as an indicator for amount of healing taking place. Mel keeps telling me that pain is associated with the bones knitting back together. I hope she's right. But having broken more bones than her, I fear she isn't. Meanwhile, I'm crossing my fingers. I'd cross my toes too if it didn't hurts so much.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-67202600187220019252018-02-04T06:30:00.000-05:002018-02-04T06:30:19.506-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: It's Overwhelming!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hu40CPXf7EA/Wlo8sCUuygI/AAAAAAAAQFM/F7NL8dT2fwsA1lX-fFuJabZ-kmPhSXFKQCLcBGAs/s1600/overwhelming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="297" height="114" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hu40CPXf7EA/Wlo8sCUuygI/AAAAAAAAQFM/F7NL8dT2fwsA1lX-fFuJabZ-kmPhSXFKQCLcBGAs/s200/overwhelming.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>How many times have you looked at your to-do list and just felt overwhelmed? It feels like you are drowning and you haven't even started yet.<br /><br />Before my stroke, I was a master juggler. I could do it all. I'd turn mountains of receipts into concise profits and loss statements and do the tax returns for multiple sole proprietorships, partnerships, and corporate entities. Tune the tune of 250 returns a year. At the same time, I'd write multiple books every year, run my own international consulting firm, and care for a family of four or more depending on how many grandkids were around. I didn't feel overwhelmed at all. I had it made until two life altering thing happened. My elder in-laws moved to town and my husband's illness became worse. I still was a master juggler. I kept track of everyone's medications and doctors appointments including mine. I prepared meals to go around, clean and organized everything. I still wasn't overwhelmed by it all. I was Superwoman, Supermom, and Wonder Woman rolled up in little, old me.<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B6_TkWcyHnE/WlpA6GN2P9I/AAAAAAAAQFY/fUi2BjzruXwUlsFeepXebZ0dX9YrVl1rACLcBGAs/s1600/overwhelming%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="299" height="112" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B6_TkWcyHnE/WlpA6GN2P9I/AAAAAAAAQFY/fUi2BjzruXwUlsFeepXebZ0dX9YrVl1rACLcBGAs/s200/overwhelming%2B1.jpg" width="200" /></a>And then, I had my first stroke and my second. A screeching halt to not being overwhelmed was the price I paid with them. Everything went into overload to my healing, damaged brain. Instead of handling everything, it became one job at a time. And, I still felt like I was drowning.&nbsp; By now, the children were grown and my in-laws had passed. God knew I couldn't cope with the extra burdens.<br /><br />Family get-togethers of more than three people was overwhelming. A load of dishes to wash (even if it was for two people) was overwhelming. A conversation with more than one person was overwhelming. Trying to organize the chores list like cleaning the bathroom was overwhelming. Taking a phone number was excruciating overwhelming without having the other party repeating the number four or five times. Life was/is too complicated.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0SMiA5eWtpI/WlpEQuKf_8I/AAAAAAAAQFk/aQiv21B0NjI6gBPfcUn06Fgz8mxX0yWvwCLcBGAs/s1600/no-easy-button.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="300" height="192" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0SMiA5eWtpI/WlpEQuKf_8I/AAAAAAAAQFk/aQiv21B0NjI6gBPfcUn06Fgz8mxX0yWvwCLcBGAs/s200/no-easy-button.png" width="200" /></a></div>After almost six years since my first stroke, I wish I could say it has gotten easier, but it hasn't. This from a person who flew across the country for a movie premiere, has talked to numerous groups about living post stroke, buried her husband, and uprooted herself from her previous life to follow her dreams. I have two definite coping skills I use every single day...my stubbornness and my ability to use math. I may not be able to add, subtract, multiply and divide worth a hoot any more, but stay tuned how I used my math skills to cope.<br /><br />My stubbornness is basically self explanatory.&nbsp; I refuse to ask for help as a first option. I raised my children to be problem solvers because I was one. They couldn't ask for help until they tried at least twice before they asked for help. Could I do any less? No, I'll try six or seven times. What can I say, I'm an overachiever still even if it's in my own mind. <br /><br />To establish macro to micro vision, it's simplifying every task. As all of us learned in every math class we ever took, I hear y'all groaning out there.&nbsp; Break the problem down to the smallest components, and then work the problem. Small things are easy to accomplish. Do those first.<br /><br />Take a sink load of dirty dishes.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BvL4fIam4x8/WlpI3pdT0RI/AAAAAAAAQFw/Kko-0qKXV7IM6HDPKLdrVf-i8feZRcQmgCLcBGAs/s1600/dirty%2Bdishes1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="150" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BvL4fIam4x8/WlpI3pdT0RI/AAAAAAAAQFw/Kko-0qKXV7IM6HDPKLdrVf-i8feZRcQmgCLcBGAs/s200/dirty%2Bdishes1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: Not my kitchen!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KQ8XY_Z3dpA/WlpLvAosfTI/AAAAAAAAQF8/Zy_E0ejK-Q4aTQsD0ze8ctHJ5sVlofrZwCLcBGAs/s1600/Got-a-Plan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="576" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KQ8XY_Z3dpA/WlpLvAosfTI/AAAAAAAAQF8/Zy_E0ejK-Q4aTQsD0ze8ctHJ5sVlofrZwCLcBGAs/s200/Got-a-Plan.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>We don't wash dishes every day. There's only two of us so it takes a few days for this amount of dirty dishes to pile up unless it's a heavy cooking day. But when it does my overwhelmed factor kicks in. I've got only two choices: leave it and it gets bigger, or do it.<br /><br />You simplify the overwhelm into doable. So I'll break it down to the simplest elements. All the silverware and cooking utensils goes into a mug or dirty pitcher. All the individual plates and bowls get stacked. Dirty pots are stacked on the stove as an extended counter. You get the idea. Now my sinks are empty. I'll clean them first. I'll fill one sink with hot soapy water. The other is left empty. I don't look at the huge piles of dishes, I just focus on the silverware. I'll empty the jug into the sink. Then I'll throw all the plastic containers and glasses into the sink. Grease sticks the worst to these so they get the hottest water and the strongest amount of soap. The silverware and cooking utensils soak while I wash up the plastic and glassware. These are put soapy dishes in the empty sink. Then I'll tackle the silverware and utensils. Once the empty sink is full, I'll rinse them all under hot water. I'll use my dishwasher racks to hold them all to dry. By using hot water only to rinse them, the glasses and flatware dry without spots. Pretty neat, huh?<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Hbb5XtzEpdk/WlpPenuX0xI/AAAAAAAAQGI/cZdSE8j7wtEF3JG2JOjU-ff9wVGRrYGlwCLcBGAs/s1600/dish%2Bdrying%2Brack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="300" height="161" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Hbb5XtzEpdk/WlpPenuX0xI/AAAAAAAAQGI/cZdSE8j7wtEF3JG2JOjU-ff9wVGRrYGlwCLcBGAs/s200/dish%2Bdrying%2Brack.jpg" width="200" /></a>Next comes the mugs and small stuff, dishes and bowls. By this time, the wash water is pretty dirty so I'll drain it and run a fresh batch of soapy water for the pots and lids. When stacking the dishes in the dishwasher, by doing it this way, I fill the top section first, and as&nbsp; the dishes get larger, I'll use the bottom section only. This way, I only have one rack at a time open instead of switching back and forth. I also know all these dirty dishes won't fit on a standard drying rack. You might ask why I didn't use the dishwasher to wash the dishes in the first place. It's broken and I haven't gotten around to replacing it yet.<br /><br />By emptying the sink first of all that mess, I was able to work in smaller, more doable batches. The job wasn't so overwhelming. It's just steady work until it's done. I wish the same could be said for the laundry I do.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-82njwTTQyj4/WlpSZ-nYwhI/AAAAAAAAQGU/cYB0fF2JM6gV-f9oAFoZHzm-gsfqdxYBgCLcBGAs/s1600/family1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="370" height="121" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-82njwTTQyj4/WlpSZ-nYwhI/AAAAAAAAQGU/cYB0fF2JM6gV-f9oAFoZHzm-gsfqdxYBgCLcBGAs/s200/family1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>With family get-togethers, that's another coping skill. I have a huge family. Three generations of 50 people or more at the moderate get-together. Even a small one of just my kids, their spouses, and my grandchildren is 18! It's more than I can handle at one time. I'll find a spot to sit in that's not in the crowd. This way, I'm not surrounded with five or six conversations going at once. I make people come to me. They come in ones or twos and that doesn't overwhelm me. The old days of having ten at the table playing Canasta are over for me. It's a sad reality of my living post stroke and stopping myself from being overwhelmed.<br /><br />Now, each task I do is simplified first into its smallest components to keep them from being overwhelming. It works with most problems I tackle. I can look back and see that I had a good time or a big job and got it done. I wasn't stressed or overwhelmed. I took it all in stride. This has gotten easier with time. I don't have to think about it so hard any more. I just take tasks from the macro view to the micro view and back again. Then when finished, I can pat myself on the back for a job well done.I may not be a master juggler any more, but I can still conquer a mountain and if I break it down into molehills. But then again. It's harder to trip over mountains. Molehills, that's another story.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-307758342678343662018-01-28T06:30:00.000-05:002018-01-28T06:30:14.367-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Spasticity Update #1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ue0cq8mh10c/WlIxeoBb2TI/AAAAAAAAQDk/8zFhAJ82X0ATzThCkJCP2jlopVlFolihACLcBGAs/s1600/Staying-Positive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="642" height="126" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ue0cq8mh10c/WlIxeoBb2TI/AAAAAAAAQDk/8zFhAJ82X0ATzThCkJCP2jlopVlFolihACLcBGAs/s200/Staying-Positive.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>When I saw Dr. Fox. He was my physical therapy doctor at Emory. All I can say positive about the appointment is two things... He never said, "It's the disease process," nor "It's the best it's ever going to be." In due course, I thanked him for this. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br />He agreed that all the PT in the world wasn't going to fix the spasticity. It would keep the permanent contratures of the tendons and muscles from happening. There is no simple fix for this. I really didn't expect one. Thanks to Dean at <a href="http://oc1dean.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dean's Stroke Musing</a> and a couple other sites, I'm pretty well self educated on this side effect of my strokes. In fact, I've been told as much by several doctors. They simply do not have the time to stay current. I, on the other hand, have nothing but time to spend on research.<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aqjlnwT6A-s/WlI2la1Xb3I/AAAAAAAAQD0/VP8J3FPUEHAa1_UU2HAH2ElrJ7NYCHAaACLcBGAs/s1600/arm%2Bextension.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="112" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aqjlnwT6A-s/WlI2la1Xb3I/AAAAAAAAQD0/VP8J3FPUEHAa1_UU2HAH2ElrJ7NYCHAaACLcBGAs/s200/arm%2Bextension.gif" width="200" /></a>He did suggest continuing with the therapy and dry needling. I need the stretching. If it wasn't so awkward, I could do it myself. Alas, as much as I tried over the years, I just can't manipulate my body to get&nbsp; a good, full extension stretch. These days I can carry about thirty pounds of grocery bags on my affected arm and not have it budge. That's how bad the constant spasticity in my arm has gotten. Even the therapist has got to do dry needling and stripping the muscles down before it will budge. But after all of that, my arm will move like pictured. It only lasts for the extent of the therapy and it's right back into the 45 degree angle. But the pain relief lasts for about 4 or 5 days which is heavenly. The charlie horse spasms which brings me to tears are reduced in frequency also. <b>Should I be happy and grateful with only this?</b><br /><br />So what's the next step?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bfUqLaoT-Vk/WlI53EdqYFI/AAAAAAAAQEA/UP3irTeFs5QMMhtwYr_M1saPB1hHas0fgCLcBGAs/s1600/frustration.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="173" data-original-width="127" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bfUqLaoT-Vk/WlI53EdqYFI/AAAAAAAAQEA/UP3irTeFs5QMMhtwYr_M1saPB1hHas0fgCLcBGAs/s1600/frustration.jpeg" /></a></div>I'm waiting once again for a functional neurosurgeon appointment. I'm back where I was in October. Maddening, isn't it? One step forward and two back. I should be used to this by now, but I'm not. After the appointment, I sat in my car on the verge of tears. It's so frustrating! My appointment time was 4PM in mid town Atlanta so not only did I do battle with the early rush hour traffic getting to my appointment, but now, after an hour with the doctor, it was the mass exodus of workers between their job and home. If you've never driven in a big city at rush hour, picture this. This is interstate driving with a 70mph speed limit. You are in stop and go traffic, and my best speed is 15mph. The sun is setting and all I can see in my rear view mirror is bumper to bumper traffic behind me for miles. In front of me is miles of tail lights. Six to seven lanes of traffic going one-way. It took an hour and a half to go 22 miles! The only good thing about it was I could take my eyes off the road and sip on my diet cola whenever I wanted. My cup holder is down between the front seats of my minivan. My right arm doesn't function to even hold the steering wheel while driving.<br /><br />But I made it home safely. I guess I should've thanked God for that, but I was too upset to even think about it. The tears of frustration rolled down my cheek as I told Mel about the appointment. I'm back in hurry-up-and-wait mode again. Meanwhile, I still haven't heard a peep from&nbsp; Shepherd's Center about an open spot for me to get in there. It's hard not to be angry or feeling like I'm being jerked around. It's hard not to feel like I'm being dumped on, or others just don't care. I've met a lot of caring folks along this journey. They all want to truly help, they just can't. They don't have the God given wisdom to help me. I know I'm not the only one faced with this dilemma. <b>So should I be satisfied? Is it just my stubbornness?</b> Lord knows, I've prayed long and hard about this. <b>Should I just give up even though that's not my nature</b>. You know, what the old Serenity prayer says...<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oKtNsF53-Yc/WlJArAmyDAI/AAAAAAAAQEQ/0qYWnBn-QMYwvxNPdSPFYBH9MYRowgQdwCLcBGAs/s1600/serenity%2Bprayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oKtNsF53-Yc/WlJArAmyDAI/AAAAAAAAQEQ/0qYWnBn-QMYwvxNPdSPFYBH9MYRowgQdwCLcBGAs/s320/serenity%2Bprayer.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have a problem with the first line. No problem with the second line. The key is the third line that's a 50-50 shot with me. Hey, I'm being honest here. I think most of us fall in the same boat. At times the Wisdom is written in black and white. You've had a stroke and you are paralyzed. You work hard to recover what you can, and make adaptions to your lifestyle. Or, like me now, when I recovered so much only to lose it again to spasticity. So Courage isn't an issue in that respect. I'll try to do something half a dozen times before looking for an easier way or calling for help. In my mind, there's got to be a solution until God gives the notion that there isn't a way to do it. That's the kicker for me with the third line.&nbsp; The wisdom is not always forth coming in a timely manner. At least to me. Remember me, I gotta have it now to be happy. I've gotten better about patience since my strokes, but I still have a long way to go. That's why I am in the questioning mode. Sometimes, God has to literally knock me in the head,<b> "Hey child, I'm talking to you!" </b>But that isn't always the case.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EGhUeRBpE5A/WlJMG5TKl-I/AAAAAAAAQEg/gJjufIeYS20fUtM_pu_vsv6XFVoHrp3lgCLcBGAs/s1600/just%2Bthe%2Bfacts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EGhUeRBpE5A/WlJMG5TKl-I/AAAAAAAAQEg/gJjufIeYS20fUtM_pu_vsv6XFVoHrp3lgCLcBGAs/s200/just%2Bthe%2Bfacts.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Everything I've read about spasticity says there is no cure. They also use the quantifiers like this may be helpful, moderately successful treatments, and research is ongoing. So the situation is not exactly hopeless, BUT there is no cure right now. And, I want it right now! I want it now before I regress to no recovery at all like I was just after my stroke. I want it before I'm back in a wheelchair. I want it now so the cycle of pain stops. It's a cruel punishment to give you back use, and then take it away due to a side effects of a stroke.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cfoijCQ-S88/WlJMQ4XxZpI/AAAAAAAAQEk/vJL_Y4N3PpUsE8vUy3j4o0_3fG09y8iZgCLcBGAs/s1600/choice_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="629" height="96" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cfoijCQ-S88/WlJMQ4XxZpI/AAAAAAAAQEk/vJL_Y4N3PpUsE8vUy3j4o0_3fG09y8iZgCLcBGAs/s200/choice_main.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Do I sound whinny here? I'm in that cycle of grief again, where I'm angry most of the time. As I said before, grief never truly goes away. I realize the cause is just frustration. It will drive me nuts if I let it. Okay, then I have a choice to make. Do I want to drive myself nuts? No, not really. The people in my head know my quirks, but most other real people don't. I really don't want to step off that ledge. Okay then, what can I do about the problem? Well, the first thing is to step away from the ledge and decide to live beyond the frustrating bits. Sure they'll be back in the forefront again, but for right now, step away from the ledge. Whew! That was a close one.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YgInGeafRcI/WlJRH88rdQI/AAAAAAAAQE4/l06xCxylg6E4zRgrczRda3oE3tFbjU37QCLcBGAs/s1600/murphys%2Blaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YgInGeafRcI/WlJRH88rdQI/AAAAAAAAQE4/l06xCxylg6E4zRgrczRda3oE3tFbjU37QCLcBGAs/s200/murphys%2Blaw.jpg" width="133" /></a>Now, take one step in the opposite direction. It doesn't have to be a huge one. Baby steps faltering as they may be. I've decided not to live in frustration. I'm going to take another step from the ledge. How do I do that? Distraction works. Firewood needs to come onto the porch. Now, it needs to be stacked. A load of wood needs to come in by the stove carrying two pieces at a time. Wow, two hours has passed since I took that baby step from the ledge. I sure don't want to freeze to death while walking away from the ledge into nutsville. Oh, there's that sweater I started knitting for Mel's birthday. The chickens and rabbits need to be fed. There's a new movie on Netflixs I wanted to see. Before you know it, the day has passed. I've been so busy living my life the frustration wasn't given a second thought. It doesn't mean that a new or continuing frustration point won't hit me square in the face tomorrow. It probably will. Remember, Murphy's Law is always waiting around the corner. But I survived the day and more than that, I was productive.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Tomorrow will never come because tomorrow will become today when you wake. All's you have to do is survive the day. One day at a time. Each day, you make a conscience choice to step away from the ledge until you don't have to. With all frustration and grief, it begins to resolve with a conscience choice.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-8708274237043659902018-01-21T06:30:00.000-05:002018-01-21T06:30:10.131-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Making Plarn and Broken Bones<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kNITFIa04vE/Wkjyi_j2-lI/AAAAAAAAQC8/fB74ofqXjeIXe7yBK7INC1VXQQ5dl7vGACLcBGAs/s1600/money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="133" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kNITFIa04vE/Wkjyi_j2-lI/AAAAAAAAQC8/fB74ofqXjeIXe7yBK7INC1VXQQ5dl7vGACLcBGAs/s200/money.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Being on a fixed income is never fun. Now being on Social Security Disability, I can't work or produce an income outside the limited allowable limit. It amounts to pocket change over a year's time. I still receive a small amount of income from my husband's pension that mainly pays for my part B, my supplemental insurance, and my monthly drug bill. I also receive a stipend from book sale royalties each month (it may buy a couple cups of coffee each month). Suffice to say, I'm luckier than most. At least I have that.<br /><br />But I have an additional income, so to speak, from Mel. Technically, Mel hasn't held a job in 18 months. She has been working the homestead. All the egg sales, recycled products sales, and vegetable and sales of everything else comes under her. She's not my spouse or relative, but a separate entity. I may contribute to the production, but truly reap no benefits from it to speak of. She pays for the property tax, her car insurance, tags, certifications, and licenses. It is her property after all. So I guess I reap some, but not enough to constitute an income source.<br /><br />So this is how I can contribute and also keep myself from going stir crazy. Besides caring for the animals.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tCK9wwldfAM/Wkj43oKmFuI/AAAAAAAAQDU/fJre8RAFI6gd3OBTYVknSN4WRSopA5FpQCLcBGAs/s1600/fiskar%2Brotary%2Bcutting%2Bkit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tCK9wwldfAM/Wkj43oKmFuI/AAAAAAAAQDU/fJre8RAFI6gd3OBTYVknSN4WRSopA5FpQCLcBGAs/s200/fiskar%2Brotary%2Bcutting%2Bkit.jpg" width="176" /></a></div>I mentioned in an earlier post about making plarn. One man's trash can be recreated into usable objects. Call it recycling, repurposing, upcycling, thrifty, frugal, or whatever catch phrase you want to use, I call it income producing. Whether I sell it as plarn or make market bags with it. With a little bit of labor on my part, it can create a product to bring in income. I ultimately bought a Fiskar rotary cutting set so I wouldn't have to use scissors. Scissors and my left hand do not play together nicely. The cost of the plarn materials is basically free (grocery and merchandise bags).<br /><br />The reason for selling both the plarn and market bags is- that we are not the only crafty people out there the world is full of knitters and crotcheters. How do I know? Take a look at how many YouTube videos, forums like Raverly, and magazines there are at the book stands. But then again, there are uncrafty folks out there that need finished products too. Not that we expect to get rich with this item alone. Far from it. If we sell enough to even pay a couple of electric bills each year, every little bit helps. I've included the video inspiration with you below.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/4EnR6JMe1Jc/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4EnR6JMe1Jc?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe><br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ISO_v18U1oc/WkjkKaIiZAI/AAAAAAAACpk/lUQZskFAdfU4NQCMcgFfZ3ifQfWvldflgCLcBGAs/s1600/hh%2Bvespera.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="570" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ISO_v18U1oc/WkjkKaIiZAI/AAAAAAAACpk/lUQZskFAdfU4NQCMcgFfZ3ifQfWvldflgCLcBGAs/s200/hh%2Bvespera.jpg" width="150" /></a>It's easy enough to do. Spinning it with my <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/210815856/oak-vespera-e-spinner-with-foot" target="_blank">Heavenly Handspinning Vespera</a> electric spinning wheel is a breeze.&nbsp; Jan at Heavenly Handspinning is a true gem to work with and now she lives in a neighboring town too. Yes, it uses electricity, but hey, one handed spinner here. I gifted myself this machine after I retired my great-grandmother's spinning wheel. Yes, I relearned how to spin one handed again after my stroke. I spin the plarn for added strength and a more consistent product. Knitting and crocheting one handed has enough challenges. I can make yards of plarn watching my favorite show or movie via Netflix in one evening. I can comb fiber or spin while rotting my brain with the boob tube. Otherwise known as relaxing in the evening before bed. Spinning is one of my old favorite winter pastimes. And, it is winter. Mel is learning and producing as well.<br /><br />Of course, there are our other handmade products as well. Mel and I are avid needlework gals. Whether it's dishcloths, socks, sweaters, caps, or anything else, we can make it. My knitted beaded evening shawls are a sure fire money maker. It all takes little startup capital and higher profitability. It won't make us rich, but every little bit counts.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SMzFldRRqdw/WkjoDm8oBwI/AAAAAAAACp4/bcZHvyJMERIqdsEivJMiv-DY1NdQb0ahwCLcBGAs/s1600/farmers-market.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="234" data-original-width="350" height="133" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SMzFldRRqdw/WkjoDm8oBwI/AAAAAAAACp4/bcZHvyJMERIqdsEivJMiv-DY1NdQb0ahwCLcBGAs/s200/farmers-market.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There is the farmer's market. Offering chemical-free, heirloom produce won't make us rich either. But as I said before, every little bit helps. It all depends on the harvest. There's also my pickles and jams we can sell. Growing our own produce makes this even more profitable.<br /><br />With the farmer's market, we can sell other things too. Mel made me a fantastic harvest tote for Christmas. It was made of scrap lumber. She used welded wire mesh on the bottom so I can rinse the vegetables outside with the hose<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gCC1A2ULatg/Wkj26GmpYwI/AAAAAAAAQDI/qDyfLiCCHPclIoT2PD49t4nsfiS0JQBCQCLcBGAs/s1600/folding%2Bboard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="620" height="188" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gCC1A2ULatg/Wkj26GmpYwI/AAAAAAAAQDI/qDyfLiCCHPclIoT2PD49t4nsfiS0JQBCQCLcBGAs/s200/folding%2Bboard.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>before bringing them inside. She also made me a folding board out of cardboard first, and then out of 1/4" plywood so I can fold laundry easier. There are a tons of wood working projects she can make and sell. <br /><br />The only drawback to farmer's markets is that they are for a limited time. Events in our local area also are a possibility. But then we have the website too that is doing nothing right now. There are other websites like etsy and ebay which offer year around access to sell on. There's always business cards for word of mouth off season referrals.<br /><br />So making money on the homestead or under SSD is challenging, but not impossible. You just have to put your mind to it and maybe a little creativity. What will sell and what won't is a trial and error method. All you can do is try. Wish us luck.<br /><br />On another note, Thursday I returned from my podiatrist's office in shock. This is a fairly long, convoluted story. It started last week. I noticed my foot was giving me more pain than usual. I was having to sit more than usual because of it. As the week progressed, it got more frequent and the pain increased as I walked. I chocked it up to weather and my increasing spasticity. But the next Tuesday marked my return to physical therapy for dry needling and stretching. This usually works well for a couple of weeks duration, so I wasn't overly concerned.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GjoQp4xLEeA/WmFMeQxX6CI/AAAAAAAAQGk/c3d92cwGOloWsBkWRIyUOcZ3F8UhmGE9gCLcBGAs/s1600/pronation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GjoQp4xLEeA/WmFMeQxX6CI/AAAAAAAAQGk/c3d92cwGOloWsBkWRIyUOcZ3F8UhmGE9gCLcBGAs/s200/pronation.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Tuesday morning arrived bright and sunny. Snow and temperatures in the teens was predicted for the night. I went to my therapy session with my old PT. I did all the intake paperwork because I had a new prescription by a new doctor at Emory. I mentioned to my therapist about needing to work on my foot and ankle because the pain had increased over the past week. After all the measurements were taken... elbow full extension is now at 50 degrees which was a 5 degree gain. I've never worked so hard for 5 degrees in my life. Foot inversion is 20 degrees so that was a bit worse. It would account for my increased pain level. My pain level was a constant 6 out of 10. Plus all but my big toe would curl under when bearing weight on the foot which plays havoc on balance. My big toe would try to arch straight up but a strap on my AFO holds it down.<br /><br />Anyhow, the therapist worked on stretching, needling, and range of motion on my foot. We both admitted that we had enough of a workout. I stood up and my toes lay almost flat inside my AFO which was better. I knew the discomfort/pain from the manipulations would ease by the next morning. It's always like this after therapy. These muscles rarely get the same workout between me doing them and a therapist. The therapist can stretch the muscles better. It's a question of working angles.<br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zWZV-X3sYgo/WmFPfnv402I/AAAAAAAAQGw/ZL0dbOknfXUVain66TFW4izaFOtwoStGQCLcBGAs/s1600/feetKnife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="143" data-original-width="159" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zWZV-X3sYgo/WmFPfnv402I/AAAAAAAAQGw/ZL0dbOknfXUVain66TFW4izaFOtwoStGQCLcBGAs/s1600/feetKnife.jpg" /></a><br />By the time I drove home, 15 minutes, I got out of my van and the pain hit me. Every time I put my weight on my affected foot was like someone stabbed me with a knife. Somehow, I made it up the six steps into the house. I was almost in tears. I sat in front of my computer, took off my AFO, and massaged my foot.<br /><br />The next morning, it was more of the same, if not worse. It didn't hurt when I wasn't weight bearing only when I was standing or walking. "Well, if it hurts, don't do it!" I tend to follow this advice, but at the same time I was trying to figure out what was wrong. I watched videos and knitted until I was cross eyed. I absolutely abhor being inactive! It's one thing if I choose to be inactive, but an imposed inactivity has never been my cup of tea.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iZ0S16aUen8/WmFVfsH9DcI/AAAAAAAAQHA/ERdHfZM8Il4GKuFnLN57EuAZKRn0vWMlgCLcBGAs/s1600/sherlock_holmes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="464" data-original-width="825" height="111" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iZ0S16aUen8/WmFVfsH9DcI/AAAAAAAAQHA/ERdHfZM8Il4GKuFnLN57EuAZKRn0vWMlgCLcBGAs/s200/sherlock_holmes.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>By Thursday morning, I called my therapist and asked her what had she done to my foot?! Heck yes, I was irritated, grumpy, and the pain when walking was 10 out of 10 when I bore weight on my foot. She told me to come in. I did. Walking from the house (steps included) was painful. Walking from the parking lot into the therapy office was teeth grinding affair. Walking from the lobby area to the mat undid me. I had tears running down my face and I couldn't talk coherently. When I was better composed, we talked as she examined my foot, my shoe, and my AFO trying to determine the cause of my pain. We went through more stretching and range of motion. There was point tenderness but no obvious break or displacement of the joints. The pain reduced down to a more manageable 7 out of 10. We were Sherlock Holmes and Watson trying to figure out what was wrong. The truth of the matter was the therapy was just the straw that broken the camels back. It was the only conclusion we could come up with.<br /><br />The next trip was to my podiatrist. Lucky for me, she'd had a cancellation. Once again, I hobbled painfully to my car, drove to the doctor's office, walked in with literal baby steps. Pain wouldn't let me do anything else. The first stop was the x-ray machine. You gotta love the digital x-ray machines. Talk about instant gratification. The definition is so much better too. The first thing the doctor noticed was an old family nemesis of ours now plagued me too... arthritis degeneration in several joints of my feet. Between my spasticity trying to bend my foot and my AFO trying to straighten my foot a silence war was raging. The small bones in my foot was the casualty. Zooming in on the top view of my foot were not one but THREE fractures in my foot. What can I say. The overachiever in me wasn't happy with just one fractured bone. No wonder there was point tenderness and knife like pain when I was weight bearing. While I had considered stress fractures as a cause, I discounted it because there was no pain when not weight bearing.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MtgBgda3qRs/WmFdnstC2-I/AAAAAAAAQHQ/yCGzxcuMgSEy-gddA43BdugyYqz9LZ1CwCLcBGAs/s1600/iwalk%2Bcrutch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MtgBgda3qRs/WmFdnstC2-I/AAAAAAAAQHQ/yCGzxcuMgSEy-gddA43BdugyYqz9LZ1CwCLcBGAs/s200/iwalk%2Bcrutch.jpg" width="200" /></a>So the plan of action is to be nonweight bearing on my affected foot for 3-12 weeks. I'd go stark, raging mad being in bed that long, and then there is the issue of bathroom needs. Most everything else Mel can handle but this I have to do myself. It's not like I can use crutches. Hello! Nonfunctioning arm here. Well, my podiatrist had the answer an Iwalk hands free crutch. I may be buying a quad cane too for added stability and from a sanity stand point. It ain't cheap as a pair of crutches. There's too much of the white stuff on the ground.<br /><br />Or, I can manhandle my <a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_qTTC1x7ew4/WmJWHbRzEGI/AAAAAAAAQHg/d0627ZGaMqEiPSMm1rvmSwGGdTo-P_K1QCLcBGAs/s1600/rollator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="1155" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_qTTC1x7ew4/WmJWHbRzEGI/AAAAAAAAQHg/d0627ZGaMqEiPSMm1rvmSwGGdTo-P_K1QCLcBGAs/s200/rollator.jpg" width="200" /></a>husband's rollator around. I found out Medicare doesn't cover the Iwalk, but my BCBS does as a out-of-network charge. The deductible is twice as much. In other words, I'd have to pay for it out of pocket. I guess, it's the rollator for the time being. Funny how I gave away my hemi walker and wheelchair when I had no further use for them but kept this, huh? I think I planned on repurposing it. A good thing I hadn't gotten around to it. For now, at least I'll be off my foot. I don't foresee having to use the hand brakes so it should suffice. I may still purchase the Iwalk, but for now, this works. It's definitely stable.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible. </div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-19086361764020867302018-01-14T06:30:00.000-05:002018-01-14T06:30:09.611-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: This Darn Stroke! Well Woes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HL30K7WjlrI/WkODHCH5BMI/AAAAAAAAQBA/qI-S7WiQg4cx3Kfx9vyX4-gWZki518xRgCLcBGAs/s1600/money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="133" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HL30K7WjlrI/WkODHCH5BMI/AAAAAAAAQBA/qI-S7WiQg4cx3Kfx9vyX4-gWZki518xRgCLcBGAs/s200/money.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>It's not very often I say this, but THIS DARN STROKE! At times, frustration gets the better of me. As usual, it is costing me money too because I can't do something because I'm having to hire someone else to do it.<br /><br />I said this before when the door handle busted on my vehicle and I couldn't maneuver the working side of my body to fix it. That ended up costing me a few hundred dollars. This time it's our water well.<br /><br />It's not rocket science diagnosing and fixing a problem with a well. If you've done it once, you can do it again. I've done it several times over the years. Everything from drilling a shallow well for the garden to installing and fixing all components that go along with it. I was lucky enough to have a father that didn't mind teaching me the ropes. He was a certified welder, electrician, plumber, heating/air conditioner tech and auto mechanic. He is a Jack of all trades and is aptly named Jack. Or, Poppa Jack to all his abundant grands and great-grands. But I digress.<br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ySwLlnE4Cpg/WkOJo0OW5iI/AAAAAAAAQBQ/cwsGDRFYnIcOFjRPwE8OcwkFVJmPE7GQQCLcBGAs/s1600/water%2Bjug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="165" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ySwLlnE4Cpg/WkOJo0OW5iI/AAAAAAAAQBQ/cwsGDRFYnIcOFjRPwE8OcwkFVJmPE7GQQCLcBGAs/s200/water%2Bjug.jpg" width="108" /></a><br />Here at the Cockeyed Homestead we had no water in the house. Having just replaced all the pipes from the well to the house wasn't the cause. At first, we thought it was because of the hard freezes we'd had. I honestly thought that burying the pipes deeper would help with this. They were 2 1/2 feet deep and it's well below the freeze line, or suppose to be. To say I was irritated at this point would be stating fact. Well, it was two days before the temperatures rose above freezing. The daytime temperatures was a little above but not much. I was biding my time. We keep four 5-gallon water jugs filled in the stores building for just such occasions. They aren't light when filled but the new deck and ramps make it easier to move into the house.<br /><br />By day three, the temperatures rose well above freezing. Still no water. I knew at this point that the problem was with the well or one of the components. Mel and I start trouble shooting the well. The first issue I have is the well itself. I told y'all how the previous owners had<a href="http://jomurphey.blogspot.com/2017/12/sunday-stroke-survival-combating.html" target="_blank"> Jerry rigged the door</a>. It gets better. The whole bladder tank, well pump, switches, and well, everything is cockeyed and Jerry rigged. In all my days on earth, I've never seen anything like it. A nightmare post Christmas. If ever there was a convoluted way of putting things together...this was it. Pipes and wires spliced, glued, and screwed into a mess. All housed in a 4'x4'x3' building. There was no way to move let alone get into the building short of laying on your back or squatting. I might mention here that they did use roofing nails in the 1/2" plywood roof. Half an inch or so of the nail points came through the plywood and shingles inside the roof and they were nice enough to leave them in tact for anyone trying to work inside the well house. It was a Machiavellian's torture chamber's delight if you got too close to them. Oh, there is an actual old time well (the kind you drop a bucket into) in the building covered by a concrete lid too. The well pump assembly sits on top of it.You just can't get to it let alone remove the lid. There's no room!<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1JdXDqw9lF0/WkOTy9v2XrI/AAAAAAAAQBg/p4-Xt3QIfVYQmkfUgOiPOJgcjW2xU0kCACLcBGAs/s1600/well%2Bpump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1JdXDqw9lF0/WkOTy9v2XrI/AAAAAAAAQBg/p4-Xt3QIfVYQmkfUgOiPOJgcjW2xU0kCACLcBGAs/s200/well%2Bpump.jpg" width="200" /></a>So you get the picture right? Now imagine little, old, impaired self me trying to troubleshoot this thing. It was a comedy of errors at every turn. Mel had always called a plumber before being a city girl and all. But I had the knowledge and hands on experience to fall back on. I powered on the well. I tend to troubleshoot the highest cost to lowest cost repair that way I can be relieved when it isn't costly. Actually Mel did this because the power switch was up at the house a couple hundred feet away. We are playing relay with cell phones. Good news, the well pump kicked on. I reached around various pipes and wires to touch the pump. Not hot after it ran for a few minutes cycling off and on. That's a major cost savings. Well pumps can run a couple hundred dollars upwards. To replace this size would have set me back $360. Whew! But still no water inside the house. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AswbXFR7WDU/WkOXnjbnCVI/AAAAAAAAQB0/uv3ojXdRFlMYUEm5-LkOly1sbCOf2y8MQCLcBGAs/s1600/bladder%2Btank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="225" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AswbXFR7WDU/WkOXnjbnCVI/AAAAAAAAQB0/uv3ojXdRFlMYUEm5-LkOly1sbCOf2y8MQCLcBGAs/s320/bladder%2Btank.jpg" width="201" /></a></div>Next pricey item is the bladder tank. While usually filled with compressed air and water, it makes a particular sound when the bladder inside has ruptured. I'd had to replace one of these before. When the bladder ruptures the vessel fills with water and depending on the size of the tank, it can be quite heavy. The well pump also tries to keep running which in turn burns out the pump motor. I know this from experience too. I picked up the pipe wrench and hit the side of the metal tank. Ping. I hit it again to be sure I heard what I heard. The old measure twice and cut once. The tank was full of water and the bladder was blown. That will set me back $140, but that's still better than having to buy the pump motor. I could reach the bladder tank, but it's actually called a pressure tank. But I've&nbsp; seen it called both. So I ran to my local Lowes to pick one up. It would have been cheaper to go through the plumbing supply house, but I didn't think about it. I was too thankful that the tank was just inside the shed. Other than the connection of the water line and a few wires, it would be an easy fix once Mel remove the old one.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">THIS WAS MY FIRST BLUNDER.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I went to Lowes and actually got a fully powered wheelie cart. You just don't understand how rare this is in the big box stores in this town. Most times, the cart dies halfway to your first item. So I'm still in a thankful mood as I grab a sales associate to carry the box to the cash register and put it into my van. I get the tank home. It was only a 20 gallon tank instead of a bigger, more costly one. By this time, it's getting dark. I decide to leave installation until the morning. The box with the tank isn't heavy, but too bulky to pick up one handed easily. I got a two handed Mel for that. Yes, it's the laziness of two again. But I wanted to teach Mel how to do it. What's the use of experience if you can't teach it?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G4HQtBEEijQ/WkOpCczm5MI/AAAAAAAAQCE/kV-_ncPrKagNdEDoLcSrQx4a-oIIt0uFACLcBGAs/s1600/broken%2Bwater%2Bcoupling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="301" data-original-width="277" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G4HQtBEEijQ/WkOpCczm5MI/AAAAAAAAQCE/kV-_ncPrKagNdEDoLcSrQx4a-oIIt0uFACLcBGAs/s200/broken%2Bwater%2Bcoupling.jpg" width="184" /></a>So morning arrives, Mel&nbsp; cuts the fittings and tips the old bladder tank on its side and starts to disconnect everything. The dirt floor of the dirt is now red clay mud. Everything is underneath with this type tank. Trying to break the seals around the fittings was a nightmare. The couplers actually broke opening a whole new can of worms and another trip to the hardware store. A union would have great if the previous owner had installed one. If only I could have gotten in there with my two hands, but would have been better than trying to explain how to do it. It also would have been easier if the assembly hadn't been on the dirt. But the piping was finished after another run to the hardware store for more couplings. Next came the wiring. But once, again dusk is falling and Mel was exhausted. With no light in the well house, working on wiring was impossible. But it was still light enough to see an electricians nightmare of different colored wires attached wire nuts snaking around, coiled and spliced here and there from the well pump, to the pressure switch just behind the well pump at the back of the shed. At least they used wire nuts, right? We'd have to disassemble everything to reach it.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jbfOJcsnydI/WkOrKqMeY3I/AAAAAAAAQCQ/VgGgTP0IU4cWAkzNbizZ2bGdQpJc8wy6ACLcBGAs/s1600/too-tired.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="690" height="174" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jbfOJcsnydI/WkOrKqMeY3I/AAAAAAAAQCQ/VgGgTP0IU4cWAkzNbizZ2bGdQpJc8wy6ACLcBGAs/s200/too-tired.jpg" width="200" /></a>At this point, I'd had enough! I called my handyman. I couldn't do it. Mel was exhausted to tears. I just didn't want to struggle with it anymore. I just wanted running water in my house and a hot shower instead of birdie baths after heating the water on the wood stove! It was time to make it all somebody else's problem.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">By the next afternoon, my handyman showed up. He'd had to complete another job first. Our handyman ain't cheap at $65 an hour, but he is good. For this reason, I don't call him very often. But he's the only one I call. He believes as I do...do it right the first time and it'll be easier the next time. When I explained our problem, he felt certain that he could finish in an hour. This was over the phone, mind you. Seeing is believing. He arrived and saw the same mess I did. He changed his estimate to two hours.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">MY SECOND BLUNDER. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yh0kiKSE9EA/WkOwR3_FGwI/AAAAAAAAQCg/KlXiyA30kyEhMpEeXjrLVfy9AdWzqE4BACLcBGAs/s1600/forest%2Bfor%2Bthe%2Btrees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="365" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yh0kiKSE9EA/WkOwR3_FGwI/AAAAAAAAQCg/KlXiyA30kyEhMpEeXjrLVfy9AdWzqE4BACLcBGAs/s200/forest%2Bfor%2Bthe%2Btrees.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">The first thing he did was install a circuit breaker mini panel to cut the power to the well in the well house and a light. Doh! I'd already figured to do this when we actually had water in the house. But that's okay, it's done now. He untangled the mess of wire and all those wire nuts to see what was what. Instead of trying to go through everything to get to the switch, he simply cut around it from outside the building and pulled it through. Then he installed the pump switch closer to the door because he couldn't work inside the pump house either. In my mind. I'm hitting myself in the forehead. I could have done that. I was so frustrated that I couldn't see the forest for the trees. It turned out that the switch was burned out so it was replaced too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4OgHw2tmgxs/WkOyrNiAgKI/AAAAAAAAQCs/1cU5EmnUqgM4WCJga3yWWgGFaKVkkh6fgCLcBGAs/s1600/murphys%2Blaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4OgHw2tmgxs/WkOyrNiAgKI/AAAAAAAAQCs/1cU5EmnUqgM4WCJga3yWWgGFaKVkkh6fgCLcBGAs/s200/murphys%2Blaw.jpg" width="133" /></a>We finally have water in the house. Yippee! It was well worth the money I paid him. I got my hot shower. But as you know I'm a Murphey and well versed in Murphy's Law. I noticed another problem. The water pressure wasn't what it should have been. By process of elimination, there's only one other thing it could be...the foot valve at the bottom of the well. It means pulling the pipe out of the well and replacing that pump. That means tearing down the pump house and rebuilding. But, I'd already decided to do that this coming summer or fall after dealing with the pump house during this calamity. So we'll be building a 8'x8'x8' pump house. We'll be raising the bladder tank off the dirt too. We're getting too old to play in the dirt and mud. With this new building and the rain catchment system in place, we should have any water woes in the near future, but if we do, we can fix them.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-79003992951110110592018-01-07T06:30:00.000-05:002018-01-07T06:30:00.229-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: The Weather Outside is Frightful...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qA3b1Ve8fhI/WjgsoqvDUhI/AAAAAAAAP_o/QnZTJRCtfRQbLhkw22MJ1eB3tQDq87RMACLcBGAs/s1600/freezing%2Bcold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="598" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qA3b1Ve8fhI/WjgsoqvDUhI/AAAAAAAAP_o/QnZTJRCtfRQbLhkw22MJ1eB3tQDq87RMACLcBGAs/s320/freezing%2Bcold.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The weather forecast today, sleet with a strong chance of snow.</div>Come on. It's a sing-a-long!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="font-family: &quot;georgia&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><i>&nbsp;<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Oh the weather outside is frightful,<br />But the fire is so delightful,<br />And since we've no place to go,<br />Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!</span></i></span></blockquote></div>Yes, it's winter. Two arctic dips with more to follow until the spring thaw.&nbsp; But inside it's warm and cozy. Thanks to the church's delivery of a cord of wood. The wood stove is chugging away. Actually, we usually keep at least half a cord on hand all year long.<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g3OnhAEBGH0/WjhtwlEmk4I/AAAAAAAAQAU/gMySeOU2Jy8cnf5VQOP753ApznVmwLweQCLcBGAs/s1600/snap-crackle-pop-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="648" height="133" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g3OnhAEBGH0/WjhtwlEmk4I/AAAAAAAAQAU/gMySeOU2Jy8cnf5VQOP753ApznVmwLweQCLcBGAs/s200/snap-crackle-pop-1.jpg" width="200" /></a>With the bone chilling, colder weather comes the ever lengthening slew of problems that are associated with age and having lived the life as fully as I have. Arthritis aches with Rice Krispies early awakening (snaps, crackles, and pops) are a daily occurrence. Not that I'm complaining, but I'm just stating facts. Living post stroke only adds to the reality that I ain't even a fall hen anymore. Namely the spasticity worsens as the weather turns frosty. My hands and arms bear the ugly, blackened burn marks from touching the wood stove while loading wood in it one handed. But it's not just me, Mel has her full share too. Oh, to be able to afford a front loading wood stove. Even a used one.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UbSHkgdDEF8/WjhsFHJXIgI/AAAAAAAAQAI/UXpyvwK9PXcayzz-FQ5JNV-vOxdx51RZgCLcBGAs/s1600/falling%2Bbulldog.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="267" height="149" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UbSHkgdDEF8/WjhsFHJXIgI/AAAAAAAAQAI/UXpyvwK9PXcayzz-FQ5JNV-vOxdx51RZgCLcBGAs/s200/falling%2Bbulldog.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not nearly as cute trying to get up.</td></tr></tbody></table>Falls happen with more frequency in spite of being extra cautious of how slippery ice and snow are. My new shoes make every piece of imaginary carpet lint a trip hazard. With the Dantrolene causing temperature intolerance (side effect) doesn't help the situation. I find myself shivering when the outside and inside temperatures fall below 60. That's not like me at all. But my pain from the spasticity is definitely more manageable. Unlike the Zanaflex that either zombified me, or had me shedding tears with each spasm. I can always put more clothes on.<br /><br />So if you are reading this and thinking I'm miserable, don't worry. I'm not. I actually love the winter months. Granted living in south Georgia for decades did thin my blood some, but I really do like the temperature fluctuations here in north Georgia. The Bible talks about all things having a season. This is just that...a change in the seasons of my life. I accept this for what it is. Within a few short years, I'll be a great grandmother. It just is what it is.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AhhH_z3qXzM/WjhlZCiagxI/AAAAAAAAP_4/e5B15XKF2Os2Wyxp4AUzKJA2XITJImr1QCLcBGAs/s1600/golden1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="174" data-original-width="180" height="193" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AhhH_z3qXzM/WjhlZCiagxI/AAAAAAAAP_4/e5B15XKF2Os2Wyxp4AUzKJA2XITJImr1QCLcBGAs/s200/golden1.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone has a sick sense of humor</td></tr></tbody></table>Maybe if I hadn't had my strokes, I'd be fighting against this aging process. You know the mighty IF, but there's no changing what is. As humans, we always look for something to blame or play what-if mind games with ourselves, don't we? The fact is that I had strokes. Yes, I'm still fighting to recover what I lost with each one, but as time marches on, I realize that yes, my life was changed forever, but it is not so bad. I mean things can always be worse. Just thinking about the possible worse is terrifying. It makes me thankful that I'm not in that situation.<br /><br />The truth is my strokes only marginally changed my direction. I had plans and continued along my desired path with a few adjustments. I'm still doing what I want or need to do. I may have to ask for help on occasion, but that's okay. I didn't get where I am or become who I am without help along the way. Granted now, it may be asking for help in different ways than I did before. "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up." There's someone around that can help me up. This is the major adjustment in my plans instead it only being me and single handed homesteader.<br /><br />Speaking of helping me up. I've noticed that it is taking me longer and it's harder getting up. Sure getting up after a fall since my strokes has always been problematic, but now, I'm having extreme difficulty rising from standard sofas. In part, I blame the abuse my left (functioning) knee and hip has had to carry the burden since my strokes. I've even noticed a touch of carpal tunnel syndrome in my left (functioning) wrist.&nbsp; I asked my PT, "what can they do about it now?" I mean think about it. Under normal circumstances, immobilization and/or surgery would be the treatment. But given that it's the only fully functioning limbs I have, it's just out of the question even for a week or longer. Yes, I do know some double amputees that still can do. But as difficult as it has been to figure out how to continue doing has been, to make do with even less is mind boggling even if is only temporary. I just prefer not to.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pVPR6BKGpJo/WjwrVjUs3hI/AAAAAAAAQAk/0LSgvCB29QIJ7zWD1Qqd4kk0sYAerKXdgCLcBGAs/s1600/muscle-atrophy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pVPR6BKGpJo/WjwrVjUs3hI/AAAAAAAAQAk/0LSgvCB29QIJ7zWD1Qqd4kk0sYAerKXdgCLcBGAs/s200/muscle-atrophy.jpg" width="200" /></a>I asked my therapist what can be done about the atrophying muscles in my right calf. I was told that I'm doing everything I can and should do. While this is comforting, it doesn't change the fact that it is happening. I just have to bide my time until I can get out of my AFO permanently. The fact that it took five years to see the marked changes in my calves, shows the diligence I used with my leg exercises. This atrophy in the calf could also account for my "new" difficulty rising too. It "rapid" onset in the past year can be attributed to the spasticity also. Notice how this is cylindrical in nature this is. So maybe I'm grasping at straws continuing to hope that the people at Emory can help. But for now, some hope is better than none.<br /><br />So while the weather outside is frightful, I'm cozy and warm inside most of the time. But that in itself can be dangerous, Without the busyness of outdoors, I'm left with too much time to ponder these things. Indoor activities leave my mind idle while my hands are busy with knitting or spinning. Come on. Sing with me. Then my focus can be remembering all the words, enunciating the words correctly, and staying on key.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible. </div><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-34490875771773778192017-12-31T06:12:00.000-05:002017-12-31T06:12:54.255-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Happy New Year and a Look Back at 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29TdIdjH0FQ/WiWHcxJi0YI/AAAAAAAAP-I/6cBnc7fgX8QhRjHnBz7CPjTpKETuV-HlgCLcBGAs/s1600/Happy-New-Year-2018-Images-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="600" height="110" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29TdIdjH0FQ/WiWHcxJi0YI/AAAAAAAAP-I/6cBnc7fgX8QhRjHnBz7CPjTpKETuV-HlgCLcBGAs/s200/Happy-New-Year-2018-Images-4.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Here's wishing all my readers a happy new year! I pray that 2017 wasn't too rough on you. If it was, then may the coming year truly bless you. Does it still seem as strange to you as it does to me writing 20XX? I still catch myself writing 19XX on the few checks I do write these days. After almost two decades into the new millennium! How sad is that? Maybe I'm regressing. Yeah that sounds better than old fart's disease.<br /><br /><br />2017 in retrospective...<br />This blog hit 350,000 page views in 2017. <a href="http://jomurphey.blogspot.com/2016/08/sunday-stroke-survival-relearning.html" target="_blank">Relearning Something New</a> was the most viewed blog with over 7,500 page views. For the life of me, I don't know why. It's pretty standard of most of my blogs.<br /><br />2017 was a productive, but unproductive year for me. I made absolutely no forward progress in my stroke recovery. In fact, I regressed due to the increased amount of spasticity. I lost all mobility in my arm, wrist, and fingers and most of my shoulder range of motion. This was truly disheartening. To work so hard at regaining use after the strokes only to lose it all due to brain farts (brain miscommunication to the muscles or electrical misfiring of neurons in the brain).<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C3tRyJ0vNmM/WiWPlxpVIBI/AAAAAAAAP-Y/30B6m9DcXMg2eFTRGLegfcSlna3OwSgSwCLcBGAs/s1600/waiting-269x300.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="269" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C3tRyJ0vNmM/WiWPlxpVIBI/AAAAAAAAP-Y/30B6m9DcXMg2eFTRGLegfcSlna3OwSgSwCLcBGAs/s200/waiting-269x300.gif" width="179" /></a>I finally got frustrated enough, tired of waiting, and maxing out my Botox levels every three months, to stop Botox all together. Not that I was having any adverse reactions, but when you pay so much for something you expect it to work better. The fact was, at 500cc of Botox every three month wasn't improving my mobility. The longevity of the drug was only halfway working after 45 days out of the 90-day cycle in pain management.There HAD to be something else. I'd given it the old college try for 4 years with only limited results. My proactive self kicked in. The risk of dying during any surgery out weighed continuing like this. I consulted a neurosurgeon about permanently ending the cycle.<br /><br />This in turn led me to Emory University. At my first appointment, the initial fellow hemmed and hawed. He started with the whole disease process line. I wasn't allowing that! I said, it's broke, fix me. He called in his superior. On the Ashworth scale my spasticity was rated 5 out of 5. It's more like cerebral palsy rather than post stroke spasticity, he explained. Doh! Tell me something I didn't know. In speaking to the stroke team over a couple of appointments and a bunch of tests, they feel confident they can restore my arm back to the lower spasticity gains that I had two years ago. That means a reduction in pain, mobility in my shoulder, elbow and I might even get my index finger and thumb back again. I'd worked too hard recovering that much and they see no reason for me not to continue recovering in spite of my spasticity. It was an angelic choir singing praises. The possibility of neurosurgery is still in the mix, but it will be later in 2018. I'm not sure what all this entails. I'll keep you posted. But at least, there is renewed hope of a solution rather than treading water waiting to drown.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qKFHwt2JZBY/WiWS3NHDnaI/AAAAAAAAP-k/IcO07TrAgpguTIUK9xVlfLLB6LF-FJp4QCLcBGAs/s1600/blue-cross.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="195" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qKFHwt2JZBY/WiWS3NHDnaI/AAAAAAAAP-k/IcO07TrAgpguTIUK9xVlfLLB6LF-FJp4QCLcBGAs/s200/blue-cross.png" width="199" /></a></div>In 2017, my Medicare kicked in finally five years post first stroke. This, in turn, opened a whole new can of worms with my other medical insurance because I'm a few years short of age 65. The Human Resources office at the college was trying to work this out. Finally, success!!! My medical insurance premiums dropped to a little over $100 a month (a $250 a month reduction). Sounds better, huh? The over payments for all these months will pay my bill for the first quarter of 2018. A good thing with the new year's deductions.<br /><br />It seems that not only can my beloved cause policy changes at the college but I can too. My husband had three months worth of vacation time and 6 months worth of sick leave on the books when he was no longer able to work because of his illness. Talk about a headache for the college! They couldn't fire or replace him until the time was off the books. The policy is now changed. And now, the pre-65 clause in our medical insurance is history too. It pays to be pro-active and self advocating.<br /><br />The absolute best thing about all of this is that I'm now within the university system for medical care. The university system picks up the tab that insurance doesn't cover. This is important because a new year means new deductibles are due for both Medicare and my private insurance. The almighty buck is important on a fixed income. I'm just thankful.<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L2XB_H_ULUY/WiWeTaYtQAI/AAAAAAAAP-0/p6ec4PMhuUIPjauIX9BrWKCnUJ7-JOI4wCLcBGAs/s1600/purple%2Bseat%2Bcushion.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="397" data-original-width="800" height="98" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L2XB_H_ULUY/WiWeTaYtQAI/AAAAAAAAP-0/p6ec4PMhuUIPjauIX9BrWKCnUJ7-JOI4wCLcBGAs/s200/purple%2Bseat%2Bcushion.png" width="200" /></a>Here's praying that I no longer have difficulty in getting my diabetic, orthotic, specialty shoes in 2018. Lord knows, they put me through the wringer in 2017. But at least if I do have difficulty, I have a back up pair of shoes now. A new friend of mine, via YouTube, had a suggestion for me. A sample of the Purple seat cushion. She just ordered one. The sample is a 2"x 2" square of the product. Just the perfect size to go between my AFO and my foot to add extra cushioning when my foot attempts to develop a pressure sore. I still have days when I'm on my feet a lot. When walking sloping or uneven sidewalks at festivals and events, there's very few places I can sit and rest my foot. These are pressure sore danger times. Even with the padding Hanger put into my AFO, and two pair of thick socks and 4 x4 padding that I do, I just do too much. But then again, I'm trying to enjoy my life to the fullest living post stroke as much as possible. She emailed me that she ordered one for me after our conversation. Could it be that my foot pressure sores are history? I'll have to let you know.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PlfLVlpMDRA/WiWhqPOYiUI/AAAAAAAAP_A/xtITnjk06LQ19go6Mx5V-AWemfAFVUeDgCLcBGAs/s1600/money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="133" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PlfLVlpMDRA/WiWhqPOYiUI/AAAAAAAAP_A/xtITnjk06LQ19go6Mx5V-AWemfAFVUeDgCLcBGAs/s200/money.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The home and property on our homestead got some much needed upgrades too. A new rabbitry/barn/food storage building, a new and regraveled driveway, and plumbing and electrical work. A virgin quarter of an acre was cleared and terraced for our planned orchard, and a new deck complete with ramp access into the house was also built by outsourced labor. A new rabbitry and chicken hoop houses were built. All the gutters have grates on them so we can harvest the rain water. No more compost and baby trees growing in the gutters. So it's been a busy year on the homestead front. All thanks to the sale of my property in south Georgia. Sometimes, you just have to spend the big bucks to make life easier and more accessible. It was money well spent. At least now it's all done and we look forward to having many years of pleasure and profit from it all.<br /><br />My children are still barely speaking to me after a year and a half of moving up here. Oh well. I had to do what I did to be happy and I am except in this one area. Life's too short to dwell on such things.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vlMga04w9_A/WiWqh7y4cLI/AAAAAAAAP_U/qxc7Nmr1k2E_53EgjzKk0NYpg5PmaHZEwCEwYBhgL/s1600/storage%2Bpantry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="133" data-original-width="100" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vlMga04w9_A/WiWqh7y4cLI/AAAAAAAAP_U/qxc7Nmr1k2E_53EgjzKk0NYpg5PmaHZEwCEwYBhgL/s1600/storage%2Bpantry.jpg" /></a>No new major accomplishments for 2017. I've just been honing what I have relearned and doing it better. Although I did make my first hard cheese to stretch my repertoire in cooking and preserving. I canned and put by more produce than I have in years past except when I was raising my children. I'm enjoying my end of 2017 by not having to go out shopping. I "shop" instead in my freezer or food storage building once a week. In fact, I'd never leave this homestead, other than pleasure, if it wasn't for doctor and therapy appointments. Yes, it's still physical not mental therapy sessions. I like it like this. I&nbsp; don't miss the go, go lifestyle I had in the city.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X5-sisIYeC4/WiWrDUTzMzI/AAAAAAAAP_Y/-4diQw00jV4fMNyv18UrMNhv2ffhPznjACLcBGAs/s1600/wine%2Bmaking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="715" data-original-width="566" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X5-sisIYeC4/WiWrDUTzMzI/AAAAAAAAP_Y/-4diQw00jV4fMNyv18UrMNhv2ffhPznjACLcBGAs/s200/wine%2Bmaking.jpg" width="158" /></a>2018, like the beginning of each year, holds the promise and expectations of starting things anew. Revamping our little vegetable and herb gardens into a adaptive gardener's heaven is definitely an open promise. The seeding of rabbit yummies in the orchard, and berries and grapes this year also is open to expectations. The first harvest of our own fruits to make wine is another...not that I drink it, but I love the process of making it. Mel loves wine so again we balance. I made four gallons worth in 2017. Clearing more trees for firewood and allowing much needed sunlight into growing areas is slated for 2018. Maybe even dairy goats (dwarf variety). If nothing else building an area for them. I refuse to buy livestock that don't have proper areas set up for them. It will give me a new challenge in 2019...yogurt, butter, cheese making.<br /><br />Life is what you make it...<br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-27283303968258120752017-12-24T06:30:00.000-05:002017-12-24T06:30:04.683-05:00Merry Christmas and a RIP<a href="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/i4BTYiy0Qi4/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for merry christmas images" border="0" class="irc_mi" height="150" src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/i4BTYiy0Qi4/hqdefault.jpg" style="margin-top: 17px;" width="200" /></a>I wanted to wish y'all a Merry Christmas and a happy new year!<br />Once again this year has flown by. Why does it seem that time flies by at break neck speeds the older you get? I find it hard to bbelieve that it's once again Christmas.<br /><br />Was it just a month ago that we were busy in the orchard with temperatures almost 70 degrees. It's down right blustery outside now. If you are going outside, you better at least have a sweatshirt or sweater on. Brr!<br /><br />I'm actually down in south Georgia this week celebrating the holiday with my family. I left Mel with all the fixings for a prime rib dinner. All's she has to do is place it in the oven or place the steaks on the grill. Down here, it's still t-shirt weather. Aren't you jealous? What a difference from my mountain homestead. Just driving across the state, I had to stop midway and shed my sweater.<br /><br />I hope y'all have a good one with full bellies, and plenty of good cheer.<br /><br /><a href="about:invalid#zClosurez" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="149" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" width="200" /></a>You remember me telling y'all about Logan, the cat, right? How he was leaving presents for me long before Christmas. Well, I caught him mid squat in the hallway a few mornings ago. Not too long after I'd cleaned up his last presents for me. I yelled and kicked at him. Don't worry I wasn't even close to hitting him. I must have made my point because he high-tailessed, he's a Manx, out the pet door outside.<br /><br />As much as I get irritated by him, he's pretty handy to have around as a service cat. He was a purring glucometer. He learn this by being with his previous owner, Mel's mother. She was an insulin dependent diabetic. Upon her death, Mel inherited the cat. He would warn her if her blood sugar was too high or low. How did he do this? He sniffed her breath. He took his job very seriously. But he didn't stop there. He had to sniff everyone's breath that came in. He would pester and yowl until he did. If your blood sugar was fine, he'd rub you and want to be petted, or he'd just leave you alone. If your blood sugar was too high or too low, he'd bite you. Not hard at first. Just hard enough to get your attention. If you ignored him, he'd continue getting more intense as time went on. He'd often sense my blood sugar an hour before I started feeling symptoms that my blood sugar levels were off.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://pics.me.me/its-freezing-pnts-brrr-9666002.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for brrr" border="0" class="irc_mi" height="200" src="https://pics.me.me/its-freezing-pnts-brrr-9666002.png" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="176" /></a>Anyhow, it wasn't until much later, I noticed he wasn't with the other cats on or by the breakfast table by the wood stove. In winter, the cats and dogs all pick their favorite spots for optimum warmth. Concerned, I asked Mel if she'd seen him. Her answer...not since mid morning. I was concerned, but not concerned enough to go out in after dark temperature fall off. The low was in the 30s. He was old enough to come in from the cold.<br /><br />The next morning, still no Logan. I'm really concerned now and we both bundled up and looked for him in the light of day. We found his body by the wood shed. We have no idea what the cause of his death was. I'll miss him. Now I have to put batteries in my glucometer. I haven't had to use it since I've been here except to double check the cat. The cat was never wrong. RIP Logan.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-68289139469890029322017-12-17T06:30:00.000-05:002017-12-17T06:30:24.074-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Just Try Not to Grimce or Laugh- Just Try<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D6o7eWDfJnM/WhgD3LE8bHI/AAAAAAAAP9E/FN0h9svoCZU6jSLzfEjwihJVozI1qt3KwCLcBGAs/s1600/days%2Bof%2Bmy%2Blife.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="133" data-original-width="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D6o7eWDfJnM/WhgD3LE8bHI/AAAAAAAAP9E/FN0h9svoCZU6jSLzfEjwihJVozI1qt3KwCLcBGAs/s1600/days%2Bof%2Bmy%2Blife.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Today is another story of living post stroke. Fair warning- just try not to grimace or laugh while reading this post. Bet you can't.<br /><br />The set up- I was sound asleep, curled up under my quilt against the chilled air in the house as the wood stove exhausted the last burning embers of wood left to burn while I slept. It was the wee hours of the morning. My night medication was wearing down, but still enough was in my system to allow for a few more hours of restful sleep before the painful spasticity kicked in and time to take more. Mel often wonders why I don't go back to sleep when I wake up in the wee hours. Sometimes I do, but other times it's just impossible. Sometimes, it doesn't pay to be a Murphy.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ENBYSO7iHw/WhgSYUO_gyI/AAAAAAAAP9U/gnc0T7xSYH4JMzoaGL6X7wfUZ2lTUNRCwCLcBGAs/s1600/charlie%2Bhorse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ENBYSO7iHw/WhgSYUO_gyI/AAAAAAAAP9U/gnc0T7xSYH4JMzoaGL6X7wfUZ2lTUNRCwCLcBGAs/s200/charlie%2Bhorse.jpg" width="133" /></a>The story-<br /><br />A twinge of pain in the calf region of my left (functioning) leg. Somewhere in the recessed of my mind it registers that a Charlie Horse is beginning. I try moving the leg into another position to no avail. In the dark, I don my sock and reach for my AFO knowing that I'd have to walk it out. The first month of a new shoe purchase, it's easier to leave the AFO in the shoe rather than trying to put the shoe on after donning the AFO. Then, I work on putting the sock and shoe on the left foot. Always a joy to do without making the cramp worse. Some time while fastening the third or fourth strap on my AFO another realization filtered through the drug induced hazed mind...I have to pee! Rushing to do something while drugged is never a good idea, but still I try.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eK4iGfXqDk4/WhgTIxri5gI/AAAAAAAAP9c/CFeQjsWCq6YVyqRvzmZrwgvd47fBsPr8wCLcBGAs/s1600/logan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="149" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eK4iGfXqDk4/WhgTIxri5gI/AAAAAAAAP9c/CFeQjsWCq6YVyqRvzmZrwgvd47fBsPr8wCLcBGAs/s200/logan.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Logan</td></tr></tbody></table>When I stood up, the degree of the amount of drugs I'd taken caused a swaying, faulting step. Oh boy, this is going to be fun was my next thought as I regained some balance and continued to the door. In the dim light of the hallway, dark mounds on the carpet announced that Logan, the cat, had left me presents while I slept. I lifted my leg to step over them. I now had one paramount mission. I have to make it to the toilet. As I placed my AFO clad foot in a safe spot, I over compensated for my balance.BOOM! I hit the floor. As I struggled to my feet, my bladder released soaking my underwear and pajama bottoms. I should have worn a pad to bed, I chastised myself. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn't it?<br /><br />Now I don't know about you, but when I fall backwards, my head always rests on the floor for a few seconds before I get up. This time was no exception. As I sat on the commode, I'm still rubbing my calf fending off the Charlie Horse that threatens to cramp down on my calf. It's a little better now that I had put my weight through the leg, fallen, gotten back up, and walked to the bathroom. I was thanking God that I again averted a full fledged Charlie Horse. I ran my hand through my hair. It met with a horrible feeling courtesy of Logan. So much for the possibility of returning to bed as if the what had already happened would allow it.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rss-ZiH7K0E/WhgfomfSfbI/AAAAAAAAP9s/QiBW_NBIrioRjpyk_Z31V7t9Dlof6FUTwCLcBGAs/s1600/latherrinserepeat2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="953" data-original-width="1350" height="140" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rss-ZiH7K0E/WhgfomfSfbI/AAAAAAAAP9s/QiBW_NBIrioRjpyk_Z31V7t9Dlof6FUTwCLcBGAs/s200/latherrinserepeat2.jpg" width="200" /></a>I stripped out of my clothes and got in the shower. I turned on as much hot water as my body could stand. I washed my hair three times to be sure it was clean. Now, rosy skinned and wrapped in a towel, I again donned my socks, AFO, and shoes. I walked into the bedroom. I pulled off the AFO and shoes, and got dressed. Not in fresh pajamas, but in work clothes. The roosters were already crowing a full hour before sunrise.<br /><br />I raked through the night's ashes in the wood stove and pulled the ash pan. I carried it outside and dumped it. I had plenty of wood ash for the chicken's dirt bath area and for making lye. Strolling back inside, I replaced the ash pan and set the intricate lacing of paper, twigs, and bark to start the day's fire. I put the three split pieces of firewood on top and flicked my Bic. I was greeted by the warmth of the blaze before I go outside for another load of firewood.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n6kXTrzSnlo/Whgg6_onyBI/AAAAAAAAP94/vS2cRo2l4H49tsH0tSfSh7qTqnDDn-89gCLcBGAs/s1600/repeat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="180" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n6kXTrzSnlo/Whgg6_onyBI/AAAAAAAAP94/vS2cRo2l4H49tsH0tSfSh7qTqnDDn-89gCLcBGAs/s200/repeat.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>So begins another day on the homestead and living post stroke. On the agenda today, make a half dozen Belgian waffles, half a dozen crepes, a loaf of sourdough bread, sprout another bucket of seed for chicken feed, grind the cleaned, used egg shells to supplement the sprouted chicken feed with calcium for the hens, and groom two rabbits, and finish making the mason jar candles for Christmas. Oh, and in between this fun, there's cooking meals, laying cardboard and spreading straw in the orchard, bring firewood onto the porch again, and tending to the house pets. But that's a normal day's routine around here.<br /><br />How you start your day is important. Mine has already gotten off to a bad start. Hopefully, it will get better as the day progresses. As tired as I am, I may only get half of my to-do list done today, but...<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br /><br /><br /><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-88146080557298221692017-12-10T06:30:00.000-05:002017-12-10T06:30:06.572-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: The "Laziness" of Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A4GCGQ4cabM/WhMEMFGeWaI/AAAAAAAAP8I/PkNwQGkLpU0qpMga6a3Du1OXRFOFnvuGgCLcBGAs/s1600/Concept-for-procrastination.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" height="133" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A4GCGQ4cabM/WhMEMFGeWaI/AAAAAAAAP8I/PkNwQGkLpU0qpMga6a3Du1OXRFOFnvuGgCLcBGAs/s200/Concept-for-procrastination.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I've always said that I was fortunate that I didn't have a spouse that could do for me after my stroke for my recovery's sake. My husband was terminal ill and actually 18 months from dying when I had my first and second stroke. I had no choice, I had to recover as much as I could and fast. I relearned how to speak legibly, move, fetch, carry, cook, shop, clean, drive and be a full-time caregiver within six months. I had no choice. Amazing, but that in itself was a blessing. Everything was have to relearn it NOW!<br /><br />Fast forward five years. I'm living in an environment with an able bodied roommate. I find myself "lazy." I'm no longer struggling to lift 30-50 lbs of animal feed. If I don't want to, Mel can do it. In fact Mel is doing a lot of things I used to do if I find it's too much of a struggle for me. This is a luxury I never knew when my husband was live.<br /><br />Am I wrong to take advantage of this luxury? When I think of other stroke survivors out there living post stroke who've had this kind of support all along, I rationalize that I was due. But in truth, I'm just being lazy and not being my proactive self. To me, yes! It's the laziness of two syndrome setting in.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6FkTv_uB6dU/WhMJtjAX0GI/AAAAAAAAP8Y/Dp3g4Ku-TlIIv_CGOJNh7S83yelTJ0mgACLcBGAs/s1600/Morning-struggle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="620" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6FkTv_uB6dU/WhMJtjAX0GI/AAAAAAAAP8Y/Dp3g4Ku-TlIIv_CGOJNh7S83yelTJ0mgACLcBGAs/s200/Morning-struggle.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not really, but this morning...</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Take this morning for example. It was cold in the house. It was only 31 degrees for the night's low.The night's fire in the wood stove had burned out. There was nothing but ash in the hearth part. I left it, donned my sweatshirt and turned on my personal electric heater.&nbsp; Mel has gotten me spoiled by always making sure there was enough wood inside to start a roaring fire until last night. I didn't run out to the front porch for firewood. My fingers were too cold to even sort through my morning medicines. In my rationalizing, self centered mind, it was Mel's fault for not bringing in enough wood to start a fire. It didn't matter that I had overslept. In fact, Mel woke up 30 minutes after I did. That almost never happens. Usually, by the time she wakes up, I'd started a fire, cooked breakfast, made her tea, had the bread or whatever started, and assorted other things. <br /><br />In reality, I was lazy and full of self pity. I actually can see myself in the role of other stroke survivors out there now with others able to do for them. I did eventually set up Mel's breakfast tray after she started the fire and she was outside feeding the animals. A short year ago, I would have done all these things. The sad thing is that this behavior is becoming the norm for me now. Sure, I'll still sort out and help with the garden, care for the homestead critters, and cook. But now it's with lackluster enthusiasm. It's the laziness of two because there is someone else to do it for me.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CfDXeyaIJrU/WhMNKmlT5pI/AAAAAAAAP8k/Blb8QAxPiuIujHDgckAY8dgcNwZKUI9mACLcBGAs/s1600/stupid_head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="150" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CfDXeyaIJrU/WhMNKmlT5pI/AAAAAAAAP8k/Blb8QAxPiuIujHDgckAY8dgcNwZKUI9mACLcBGAs/s200/stupid_head.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I realized my laziness of two is causing more work for us this morning when I thought about how we set up the straw bales in the garden. In part, honestly it was a brain fart moment. When I brought in the last ten bales of wheat straw, I suggested putting cardboard down first under the bales. Mel decided to use weed cloth because it was easier. I didn't argue with her because I was tired and couldn't voice my reason for using the cardboard instead. This morning, it came to me crystal clear why I wanted cardboard under the bales and use the weed cloth in the walkways. It was a "Doh!" moment. Worms can't get through the weed cloth, the plant roots can't grow through it, and it won't decompose for decades. Now, we'll have to redo a whole 40' row. Made worse because the rain we had this week has soaked the bales so now they are twice as heavy. The composted straw bales were to enhance the decomposing wood&nbsp; chips to build the soil. With the weed cloth down we would have had to remove the good composted bales in two years to add it to the wood chips after removing the barrier. So much for working smarter. But at least I caught my mistake before 40 bales of straw was down.<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DMLhwo6e90w/WhMSTLtTeoI/AAAAAAAAP80/R58gsMUYslgeDeJ5YozLuiM1BcuRYJsGQCLcBGAs/s1600/plarn_bag_l2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DMLhwo6e90w/WhMSTLtTeoI/AAAAAAAAP80/R58gsMUYslgeDeJ5YozLuiM1BcuRYJsGQCLcBGAs/s200/plarn_bag_l2.jpg" width="145" /></a>Another example of sheer laziness of two on my part has to do with the little shopping I do. I don't put the reusable shopping bags back in my car. As a result we get a those plastic bags. But there is a happy result with this laziness, I can spin Plarn (plastic yarn). With the plarn, I can knit or crochet market bags which I can use or sell. But it's more work on me and Mel. I still don't play well with scissors. Then, I have to spin it on my spinning wheel. Yes, I know you don't have to spin it to use it, but I have a stronger more consistent product to work with by spinning it. Part of me is still in the marketing mode that dictates a better product commands a better price point. So now, I'll have tan (grocery bags), blue (walmart bags) and white (pharmacy, Lowes, and Dollar Store bags) to work into plarn this winter as if I didn't have enough angora and sheep's wool to spin already. Oh, and all those little plastic bags filled with product, I only carry half of them inside...Mel gets the rest. It's the laziness of two.<br /><br />In a way the luxury of the laziness of two has been a blessing. It's less wear and tear on me having someone else share the load. But when I start taking advantage of it, that's just not right. That's one thing I've got to change starting today. I'll be making A HUGE pot of beef, vegetable and barley soup tonight. I'll be canning the excess. Why? Because I can and it's less work later. Mel has to pick up a truckload of wood and cardboard today, so I'll keep her company and help as much as I can. Tomorrow morning I'll be out in the garden and orchard with her, sans two hours for a doctor's appointment. I'll be side by side working with her until weather stops us. The laziness of two stops right now. Together we can accomplish more.<br /><br />It snowed this week! The whole area was blanketed with the white stuff.&nbsp; It was predicted to only be a couple inches worth, but you couldn't tell it by our place. There was enough snow to have a snow ball fight in the garden. I'd say closer to 6" on Thursday and another inch or two the next day. Well, the straw bales will get a good soaking when it all melts. It still hasn't as of this morning.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-90856444010987641012017-12-03T06:30:00.000-05:002017-12-03T06:30:00.408-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Combating Adversity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jZYn-9-BwWs/Wgn0HgHYuFI/AAAAAAAAP7c/8H_fURepdOUl4qr2pPOspMOtT3d3kF50ACLcBGAs/s1600/uphill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="438" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jZYn-9-BwWs/Wgn0HgHYuFI/AAAAAAAAP7c/8H_fURepdOUl4qr2pPOspMOtT3d3kF50ACLcBGAs/s200/uphill.jpg" width="145" /></a></div>One of the hardest things about living post stroke is combating adversity. I mean carrying on with your life as if nothing devastating has happened is a challenge, right? It's hard to stay motivated when you are talking about charging uphill for years. Now, I can say that because it's almost been six years since my first stroke. I'm still charging. Maybe not with the gusto I once did, but it's still going forward. Even when I'm standing still, it's a battle not to back slide down the hill so that counts. Sometimes, that's the best you can do so stop knocking yourself.<br /><br />Today, I faced a task, that on the surface, seemed easy enough. I was asked to remove the old door from the well house. The door had split in two and needed to be replaced. Part of me should have known that anything built prior to our move to this property would be cockeyed. That's how we came up with our homestead's name in this first place. Nothing was done properly the first time around. When looking at it, you turn your head to one side and wonder why they did it that way. But honestly, we do things in not the normal way ourselves too, but it works.<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5R_7ntHe0E/Wgn4JTpxroI/AAAAAAAAP7o/YPZgaFpsu2I_H1u9TjCopaLSMBuZtpaQwCLcBGAs/s1600/gate-hinges-13618-64_1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5R_7ntHe0E/Wgn4JTpxroI/AAAAAAAAP7o/YPZgaFpsu2I_H1u9TjCopaLSMBuZtpaQwCLcBGAs/s200/gate-hinges-13618-64_1000.jpg" width="200" /></a>I digress as usual. Back to my story. All the previous being said, how hard could it be? I'm just removing hinges, right? I approached the door, about two hundred feet from the house. I'm armed with a drill, two screw drivers (slot and phillips) and a hammer. I even have a chisel stashed in one pocket because I don't want to have to traipse back to the workshop once I start. I'm ready to do battle. I already know whoever hung the door used gate hinges rather than standard hinges.<br /><br />I pulled the broken piece of the door away to get a closer look at what was left attached about six inches was left that was hinged to the frame. I put my tools on top of the well house. It's about 4' tall so my tools would be in easy reach without stooping to the ground. See, I'm thinking and doing smarter. I take a look at the screws except they weren't screws, but lag bolts. WTF! Now I'd have to go get the wrench set. But I investigated further still thinking smarter. Not only were they lag bolts but the back (inside) where the bolt came through the wood, the bolts were bent over 90 degrees. The idiot did not use a hack saw to cut the bolt excess off and put a nut on to hold it in place HE BENT THEM! To me this was beyond cockeyed carpentry. I knew at this point, this was a two handed operation. Sadly, I walked up to the porch where Mel was stacking firewood and gave her the bad news. Not that I couldn't have figured a way to straighten the bolts out with one hand, but I couldn't see a way of doing it without causing more damage.<br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8g33cL0pcg/Wgn-ihWIcZI/AAAAAAAAP74/3d0juRlRHuU0or-3rGKOkKELZhlTh3SYgCLcBGAs/s1600/split%2Bfirewood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="189" data-original-width="267" height="141" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8g33cL0pcg/Wgn-ihWIcZI/AAAAAAAAP74/3d0juRlRHuU0or-3rGKOkKELZhlTh3SYgCLcBGAs/s200/split%2Bfirewood.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />It's one of those days when fighting adversity is me standing still. While loading the wood into the back of the truck to bring it to the house, it was more of me standing still. The cut wood was in an unlevel area and heavily overgrown. I helped where I could but it wasn't much as I watched Mel do the lion's share off the work. Loading the wagon with wood from the wood shed and bringing up to the porch is another story. That I can do all day long, but wood split in the wild part of the acreage, there's just no way for me to do it without falling. I just went along to keep her company I guess because that's all I could do. But now the wood is stacked on the front porch for the wood stove for another week or so.<br /><br />Now, I'm playing poor, pitiful me blogging instead of sharing the work load around here. I will be throwing some steaks on the bbq for dinner. I'll even roast some potatoes and corn to go along with it. Ooh, if I feel really adventuresome, I might even make some sourdough rolls to go with it. Maybe some deviled eggs too. We've only got ten dozen eggs in the refrigerator. That's the ticket. Move forward uphill by accomplishing what I know I can do. Now for dessert, I can do a peach cobbler. It's only noon, I got plenty of time since I'm not doing anything else.<br /><br />Combating adversity is a cinch. Not really. When adversity seems overwhelming, focus on what you can do and do it well.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-91497228941383020142017-11-26T06:30:00.000-05:002017-11-26T06:30:07.467-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Orchard Project, Shoes, Medicines and More<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BcPnjQe4hVY/WgRyBxS51hI/AAAAAAAAP68/LosCIVSKqgIWdct9kieRPJgZoqH0HksrwCLcBGAs/s1600/tiers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="150" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BcPnjQe4hVY/WgRyBxS51hI/AAAAAAAAP68/LosCIVSKqgIWdct9kieRPJgZoqH0HksrwCLcBGAs/s200/tiers.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>We've had an unseasonably warm November so far. I think we've only lit the wood stove three or four times so far. I know this will change, but for now it's great. Thank goodness! Preparing the organic orchard with cardboard and hay has taken longer than expected. Doesn't all plans versus reality take longer? We started on the lower tiers first, so the upper tiers are yet undone as you can see in the picture. It takes two weeks to do one 8' x 75' tier. We've only accomplished the lower two tiers as of today. Ah, if only we were younger and both able bodied. It would all be done by now. Or, am I just kidding myself? Probably, keep reading and you'll see why.<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5g74sXacLd0/WgReDawtieI/AAAAAAAACc0/XhHJw71k10EzSjruqqo3lhvmt0AGYAK0ACLcBGAs/s1600/fuggedaboutit_brooklyn.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="324" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5g74sXacLd0/WgReDawtieI/AAAAAAAACc0/XhHJw71k10EzSjruqqo3lhvmt0AGYAK0ACLcBGAs/s200/fuggedaboutit_brooklyn.jpg" width="200" /></a>The rains has also delayed us. Not that I'm complaining. I don't think I'll ever complain about too much rain again after the drought of 2016. I guess we could continue to work in the rain, but we have heavy clay soil. It's like walking on an oil slick when it gets wet even with two working legs. Even with the wood chips down on the tiers, it's unstable footwork when its wet. When you are talking about a sloped clay access to the lower levels, it's a downhill slide quite literally. We err on the side of safety here. We could easily slide all the way down and off the twenty-foot drop at the bottom tier. No thank you! Besides, being older folk, we ain't ducks, rainy weather with its winds racing down the hollow, is for the insane carrying large pieces of cardboard as sails. And scattering straw, fuggedaboutit.<br /><br />I've come to the realization that it'll get done when it gets done. Hopefully before the freezing temperatures set in. If not, then it will have to wait until spring thaw. I'm just not going to worry about it. At my age, things just don't have the immediacy it once did. It's better to enjoy life than killing yourself getting it done. Being limited in mobility and living post stroke are besides the point.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It truly doesn't help that Mel took another tumble and cracked a bone in her forearm two weeks ago. No, as usual, she didn't go to the doctor. She hates them all. She depended on her common sense and "Dr. Jo" to diagnose her problem. It was fairly obvious over time. No nerve or mobility impairment. Just pain with certain movements and point tenderness. It lasted for days so it wasn't a sprain or deep bruise. Of course, it could still be the last two, but treating it as a hairline fracture is the same treatment.</div><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AKm3bcVLAcs/WgRjhe0MCkI/AAAAAAAACdI/AkcMJVC47ZceJ6-MfzMly21x-cLBZEn9QCEwYBhgL/s1600/The-Death-Of-Common-Sense.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="607" height="149" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AKm3bcVLAcs/WgRjhe0MCkI/AAAAAAAACdI/AkcMJVC47ZceJ6-MfzMly21x-cLBZEn9QCEwYBhgL/s200/The-Death-Of-Common-Sense.png" width="200" /></a> It's only common sense, right? If it hurts, don't do that. If you are tired, rest.Who needs x-rays and doctors at today's price of several hundred bucks to diagnose it? Why does it seem the younger folk out there seem to have been standing behind the door when God handed it out these days. I noticed it in general observation of my children and grandchildren. They have a lot of "Doh!" moments when shown the sensible way to do something. I mean, I'm older, brain damaged, and have multiple CRAFT (can't remember a freaking thing) moments, but still I'm capable of common sense. Enough of this rant.<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-84CdaB-VyAA/WgRolHAruxI/AAAAAAAACdU/Rzoy351stBkVXiBoIxE0KGlPh7PB62emwCLcBGAs/s1600/diabetic%2Bshoes.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="500" height="138" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-84CdaB-VyAA/WgRolHAruxI/AAAAAAAACdU/Rzoy351stBkVXiBoIxE0KGlPh7PB62emwCLcBGAs/s200/diabetic%2Bshoes.jpg" width="200" /></a>I also finally got my new shoes! I'm a lot more stable upright and less chance of a pressure sore developing. Insurance covered one pair of specialty orthotic shoes and I paid for a second pair. My AFO needs the support of my shoe to work properly. I really dislike Velcro closures but I'm limited in style because of the deep depth I need with the build up on my AFO. With the new shoes, I'm more active. Yippee! I'd be going like gang busters if it wasn't raining. But rainy days the work of the homestead doesn't stop for me. There's baking to be done, herbs to dry (yes, the warmer weather means they are still growing), clothes to wash, caring for the animals, etc.<br /><br />I'm still playing at making hard cheeses. But, it's a lot less attractive, or self-sufficient, or sustainable when you have to purchase the milk to make cheese. We go through about 1 1/2 gallons a week, on average, in general consumption. Mel is a heavy milk-a-holic, and I use quite a bit in cooking and drinking also.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z143CbbDpy0/WgR5czC6PRI/AAAAAAAAP7M/V_MtRa7LhNY6FGYJS_k6qA4KbAPJQbuvQCLcBGAs/s1600/dantrolene_25mg_capsules.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="262" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z143CbbDpy0/WgR5czC6PRI/AAAAAAAAP7M/V_MtRa7LhNY6FGYJS_k6qA4KbAPJQbuvQCLcBGAs/s200/dantrolene_25mg_capsules.jpg" width="174" /></a></div>I'm waiting for my appointment at Emory. It should be in two weeks. I'm hoping they have the answers I'm looking for. The increased doses of Dantrolene seems to help more with the pain I'm feeling with the spasticity. I'm close to the maximum dose now with no noticeable improvement in mobility. With the increased dose, the side effects of diarrhea and headaches have come back again. Add drowsiness and dropping off to doze at a tip of a hat in the late afternoons. It may be a couple of weeks before this stops, I hope. At least, the pain is more manageable. I'm able to sleep 4-6 hours a night without waking because of pain. Wohoo! That's better result than I expected especially being seven months without Botox.<br /><br /><br />&nbsp;I've decided to change bedrooms this winter. I'll take the larger front bedroom that's the office now. Not that I need the extra space, but the two large northeasterly windows allow for more sunshine in the room. I do love my sunlight. Besides, since neither of us actually use the office/craft storage room, it makes better sense. Bonafide shelving and cabinets in the smaller room, my current bedroom, will work just fine. But first we have to empty the rooms, paint the hideous wood paneling, build the shelving units, and move all the stuff over. So work continues on the orchard and around the home of the homestead. Until next week, remember...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible. </div>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-78946122266317027692017-11-19T06:30:00.000-05:002017-11-19T06:30:08.199-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Cutting the Cheese<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FWn0kU-P1MU/WftyayQ4XMI/AAAAAAAAP6c/qlp0YzKy9ukcQLpETleJMiUfPQU0DyEVACLcBGAs/s1600/cheddar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1070" data-original-width="948" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FWn0kU-P1MU/WftyayQ4XMI/AAAAAAAAP6c/qlp0YzKy9ukcQLpETleJMiUfPQU0DyEVACLcBGAs/s200/cheddar.jpg" width="176" /></a></div>We are two cheese loving fiends in this household. Cheese omelets, grated cheese in dishes, cheese and crackers, or even just slicing it and eating it.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong. Any self respecting homesteader/DIYer has made cheese. I'm no different. I've probably made half a ton of cream cheese, cottage cheese, ricotta cheese, and other herbed spreadable cheese over the years, but never a cheddar or even a semi hard cheese like Swiss. Which we love the best. But, living post stroke is full of challenges every day. What I've got to say to that is..."What's one more?"<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QKAGo9NhnTA/Wfs8Aik0TdI/AAAAAAAACbE/zEqdMHdhTEULupDPl6G_kFVoLugXUcUvgCLcBGAs/s1600/ki-basic-cheese-making-kit.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QKAGo9NhnTA/Wfs8Aik0TdI/AAAAAAAACbE/zEqdMHdhTEULupDPl6G_kFVoLugXUcUvgCLcBGAs/s200/ki-basic-cheese-making-kit.jpg" width="200" /></a>My excuse...I didn't have the molds,nor weights, nor a press. They are costly. Then, I figured I didn't need a fancy smancy cheese press or cheese molds the online places sold. I went to my favorite place to learn something new...YouTube. There isn't much that you can't find if you look for it. I also bought one of those Ricki Carol kits. The one with various cultures and rennet. It also came with cheesecloth, a thermometer, a strainer basket, and instructions. I much prefer my flour sack dish towels than cheesecloth. It's more sustainable than cheesecloth.<br /><br />My friend in North Carolina had sent me home with a gallon and a half of frozen goat milk. Mel was tired of "tripping over" all those <br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F9puAZ1n5lw/Wfs-CXXqK8I/AAAAAAAACbQ/hCRIw_33jD0r30GhJhZfrGOZcn-qokNDACLcBGAs/s1600/BookPressOpenPortrait_MG_0152_large.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="400" height="160" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F9puAZ1n5lw/Wfs-CXXqK8I/AAAAAAAACbQ/hCRIw_33jD0r30GhJhZfrGOZcn-qokNDACLcBGAs/s200/BookPressOpenPortrait_MG_0152_large.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mel built hers with 16" bolts</td></tr></tbody></table>quart bags in the freezer when she was trying to find something. She told me to do something with it. There was no room in the freezer for ice trays. She had made herself a book press a while back because she wanted one. She used it once and put it aside to gather dust. I simply repurposed it into a cheese press. I had some leftover 3" PVC pipe from when we made our rabbit poo removal system to use as a mold. I didn't have to pay another penny. What can I say...I'm cheap.<br /><br />All I needed was to fashion was the follower that moved freely inside the pipe on to the scrap pile. We tried several ready made options, like a wide mouth canning lids, but the all could not stand the pressure without bending. Mel then took a leftover piece of 1x4. She cut the insert and sanded it. We finally had something that would work...sort of. It took several more cuttings and sanding attempts before we got it perfect. By using wood as a follower, the wood would get wet and swell. After a while, the follower wouldn't move freely in the PVC. So, wood would not be the best option, but it's what we had. We also pulled small blocks from the scrap pile to take up the space between the follower and the top of the book press/cheese press. Voila! We had a cheese press and molds.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CjbVRlKE-4g/WftFEo6VBfI/AAAAAAAACbg/_RZhfd_uo_IwcNiDI8z6HUcTSto3Xj3mACLcBGAs/s1600/milk.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CjbVRlKE-4g/WftFEo6VBfI/AAAAAAAACbg/_RZhfd_uo_IwcNiDI8z6HUcTSto3Xj3mACLcBGAs/s200/milk.jpg" width="200" /></a>The weights were empty, gallon milk jugs filled with water. 1 gal of liquid= 8 1/3 pounds. I figure 1 jug equaled about 10 lbs or at least close enough for just playing around. I could fit two gallon jugs and two juice containers around the bolts. If I was successful and I liked making hard cheese, a yard sale or Goodwill would have a set of standard weights cheaper than new. And then, we'd have to buy the dairy goats to feed my cheese making endeavors. Right now, I was playing with options. Who knows, I could hate the process and not want to do it again. No sense in spending my nickles and dimes yet.<br /><br />Now I was ready to make cheese! I mixed enough cow's milk with calcium chloride with the partially thawed goats milk to make two gallons of liquid. working with full gallons is a lot easier than cutting a rennet tablet into 1/8th or 16ths. Then I placed it in a large, heavy bottomed pot. I gently brought the combined liquid up to temperature. I added the culture and let it bloom in the warm milk. I added the required rennet. It was instant gratification to see curds forming as I stirred it in. I put the pot in a warm water bath to let the curds finish forming.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7Fb4FhdheoQ/WftRwM87YOI/AAAAAAAACcE/2BeKLfc2wSkJJEsn7shdJyAWucRtBH-PQCLcBGAs/s1600/wire%2Bwhisk.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="100" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7Fb4FhdheoQ/WftRwM87YOI/AAAAAAAACcE/2BeKLfc2wSkJJEsn7shdJyAWucRtBH-PQCLcBGAs/s1600/wire%2Bwhisk.jpg" /></a>Now many folk will cut the curds very precisely with a long knife, aptly named a cheese knife. I'm a one handed homesteader living post stroke and don't have a lot of patience. I used a wire whisk to cut my curd. I didn't need perfect cubes. I just needed it cut fairly uniform small chunks, and the whisk did the job. It was a whole lot simpler.<br /><br />I cooked off the curds and strained them dry. Getting that large pot full of curds and whey into the kitchen sink one-handed is another story. I poured the curds into the mold. I retained the whey for ricotta cheese later. But that's another process.<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0AawugF1X-E/WftRD98G3OI/AAAAAAAACb8/VraCWKdlqv85hoBf1B16JJlYQSDPoDSrgCLcBGAs/s1600/Ched06.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="400" height="160" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0AawugF1X-E/WftRD98G3OI/AAAAAAAACb8/VraCWKdlqv85hoBf1B16JJlYQSDPoDSrgCLcBGAs/s200/Ched06.jpg" width="200" /></a>I have to say, that I'm actually pleased with the result.&nbsp; Did you know that cheddar cheese is made by cheddaring the curds? I didn't. I thought this was kind of neat. It seemed a shame to have to break that glossy, smooth cheddared cheese up to add salt, but I did.<br /><br />I air dried, to set the rind, 1 1/2 pounds of freshly pressed cheddar. The bits and pieces that did not fit into the mold for the first weighted pressing was put in a bowl with cream, garlic and herbs for an overnight aged treat to be eaten with crackers. After all, the cheddar won't be aged for 3 months to a year before it's ready to eat. The whole process would need to be done on a large scale to meet our desires for this milk based product in the future because of the aging time involved. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VxMuatDA5PE/Wft6l1p0SHI/AAAAAAAAP6s/XNaVkA3cLNA6Aw4jh7zV1JxKx9CQdZ4UQCLcBGAs/s1600/ricottacheesecake3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="740" height="134" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VxMuatDA5PE/Wft6l1p0SHI/AAAAAAAAP6s/XNaVkA3cLNA6Aw4jh7zV1JxKx9CQdZ4UQCLcBGAs/s200/ricottacheesecake3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>As with most homesteads, the Cockeyed Homestead believes in waste not, want not. Everything has a second or third use. The whey was turned into ricotta cheese. Add some day old cream cheese, homemade sour cream, and leftover cottage cheese and we had the start of my infamous baked cheesecake. Just something else to nosh on while we are waiting.&nbsp; Topped with my Triple Berry Delight jam made this summer as an extra fine treat. Yum!<br /><br />After all is said and done, I may be investing in some weights. Cheese making is a labor of love and time. I can see myself doing this again. Now, about them goats... :o)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-55671650797453805712017-11-12T06:30:00.000-05:002017-11-12T06:30:11.339-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: I'm Still Crazy Part Deux.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5dUZSFO7pvs/Wey20VSzcZI/AAAAAAAAP4s/yC6ByifPiIEn1iTmJlp8B2IrsMW7jU2WgCLcBGAs/s1600/crazt%2Blike%2BA%2Bbad%2Bthing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="512" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5dUZSFO7pvs/Wey20VSzcZI/AAAAAAAAP4s/yC6ByifPiIEn1iTmJlp8B2IrsMW7jU2WgCLcBGAs/s200/crazt%2Blike%2BA%2Bbad%2Bthing.jpg" width="200" /></a> Today, I'm revisiting last week's blog on my craziness living post stroke.<br /><br />You may remember a few weeks ago, I blogged about our orchard being cleared. Yeah, once again real life got the better of me pulling me away from the homestead. Doctors, therapy, and orthotic appointments were heavy over the past several weeks. Ah, such is life living post stroke. We never got the chance to broadcast our deer plot seed to green up our tiered orchard before the cooler weather started.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZO8MlD879Y0/Wey5yJO6XAI/AAAAAAAAP44/p6mVmuJQTDA-J5c647w7TlSmItl-QxevgCLcBGAs/s1600/tiers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="150" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZO8MlD879Y0/Wey5yJO6XAI/AAAAAAAAP44/p6mVmuJQTDA-J5c647w7TlSmItl-QxevgCLcBGAs/s200/tiers.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 of 5 tiers</td></tr></tbody></table>Now that the firewood is stock piled, the garden has been put to bed for the winter, and the chicken coop and run are done, we can turn our attention to the barren ground which will become our orchard. It means hauling and spreading cardboard all over the five 25'x 75' tiers in the orchard. We've already spread the wood chips. What a job!<br /><br />We've saved all the cardboard from deliveries to the house, soda cartons, and everything in between for months. All of it broken down and stacked for easier distribution. But, what we have won't cover more than two terraces. That means several trips to the grocery store to get theirs. We'll also be picking up empty 3 and 5 gallon buckets of frosting, pickles, and assorted other things. They are extremely useful on the homestead.<br />&nbsp; <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WOn3vtIdfU0/Wey-yYZT-4I/AAAAAAAAP5M/u5hTJ_EyFngtf5IqEQkM4gPlu4ynk0wlgCLcBGAs/s1600/garden%2Bcart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WOn3vtIdfU0/Wey-yYZT-4I/AAAAAAAAP5M/u5hTJ_EyFngtf5IqEQkM4gPlu4ynk0wlgCLcBGAs/s200/garden%2Bcart.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Anyhow, back to the orchard. Mel Jerry-rigged a hitch for our lawn tractor/mower for my garden cart. So now we can just drive big bunches of it down to where we need it. Considering the tumbles and falls I've suffered through the past month or so, it only seemed the smart way to do it. I can now ride all the way down to the lowest tier without the danger of falling. This is a huge plus for me. And, me just getting over a pressure sore too, it's faster for me to get around.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ2RP7Qayks/WezBixt2FAI/AAAAAAAAP5c/zIVKZtW4QKk7vZ1UWIBO0yKUr-v952grwCLcBGAs/s1600/wheat%2Bbales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="300" height="133" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ2RP7Qayks/WezBixt2FAI/AAAAAAAAP5c/zIVKZtW4QKk7vZ1UWIBO0yKUr-v952grwCLcBGAs/s200/wheat%2Bbales.jpg" width="200" /></a>I'll be buying two large bales of wheat straw to go over the cardboard. Then, we'll be spreading rabbit and chicken manured hay over the straw. The last coating is a hand broadcasted layer of bone and blood meal as added nitrogen fixers before putting it to bed for the winter. We'll depend on mother nature to water it all in. I'm crazy, but not that's crazy to hose the quarter acre area by hand. It will take several months to achieve. Organic gardening on this mass scale is not adaptive gardening, but necessary for the organic orchard to get off on the right foot. It all goes back to I'm crazy. But I have a plan. So it's my planned insanity.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lf-GI6IBGYU/WezBaXPPVdI/AAAAAAAAP5Y/XGG45VKbUTcGOIqtyjOR9cfzaTXxranUgCLcBGAs/s1600/straw-bale-gardening.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lf-GI6IBGYU/WezBaXPPVdI/AAAAAAAAP5Y/XGG45VKbUTcGOIqtyjOR9cfzaTXxranUgCLcBGAs/s200/straw-bale-gardening.jpg" width="200" /></a>Now for the adaptive gardening segment, this anyone can do. I'll be bordering two sides of our vegetable garden with straw bale gardens. Since our vegetable garden is a side ways trapezoid shape, the longest edge borders a narrow car park area and the barn/workshop. It was originally fenced against the chickens (didn't work) with a five-foot welded wire fence held in place by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ffRBGLPCVI&amp;list=PL44RRJNGnoNPJWahfiz5qCMBjnNWAakGu&amp;index=2" target="_blank">Mel's moveable fence posts</a>. I was looking to replace the fencing beside the car park and the new driveway beside the house. Since it's relatively new soil, I also wanted to build it up some too. The straw bale gardening techniques seemed to be the way to go. <br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pigqYoNq1Lw/WezKzJPW2BI/AAAAAAAAP5s/-6eurel6KHAZtiwt1XxtqZ3xwnMaAbC3wCLcBGAs/s1600/trapezoid%2Bgarden%2B2018.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pigqYoNq1Lw/WezKzJPW2BI/AAAAAAAAP5s/-6eurel6KHAZtiwt1XxtqZ3xwnMaAbC3wCLcBGAs/s320/trapezoid%2Bgarden%2B2018.gif" width="218" /></a>By stacking these 2x3 bales of straw, it raised the planting area above ground level. Much easier for me to maintain. There are little to no weeds produced by using the straw bales to plant in. The weeds that typically come up are wheat grass and clover which the rabbits and chickens love, and inky mushrooms which&nbsp; I use as a black colored dye for wool.So it sounded like a win-win scenario to me also. The fencing could still be raised for support of these vegetables too. It's a couple weeks process the get them ready for planting, but I've got all winter. The bales will slowly decompose over the next two years. Plenty of time to get perennial plants like rosemary and lavender thrive and established. It will also give me rich fertile soil in the end several inches thick so it would eliminate digging into the hard packed clay to plant.<br /><br />I'm trying to think of the path of least resistance for our spring garden. Accessibility is also important. In between plants or even into the sides of the bales I can plant garlic, onions, leeks, carrots, and lettuces.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L9v9zMhDZWc/WezNNkxd1TI/AAAAAAAAP54/PaMWSvrTgP86AwKiKworQwt03d3G59MYACLcBGAs/s1600/thanksgiving-decorations-seasonal-decor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="736" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L9v9zMhDZWc/WezNNkxd1TI/AAAAAAAAP54/PaMWSvrTgP86AwKiKworQwt03d3G59MYACLcBGAs/s200/thanksgiving-decorations-seasonal-decor.jpg" width="165" /></a></div>I'm thinking the after Halloween or Thanksgiving sales would be the best time for normal folk (small scale) to buy straw bales cheap. Or ask your friends and neighbors for their decorations after they've finished with them as a free option.&nbsp; Even straw that was used to stuff scarecrows can be used for mulch in the garden. I always think of cheaper alternatives when possible. The fall is the time to think and plan your spring gardens. Another man's junk or garbage can be repurposed for your gardening endeavors on the cheap. The results are a healthier more active lifestyle for you living post stroke. If you need a higher platform to garden and harvest from stack the straw bales two or three high to a comfortable level for you. Split pallets to support the hay bales for longer life.&nbsp; Start small and work your way to bigger as you go.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2ZLVZdIhMb4/WezVdxhFyXI/AAAAAAAAP6E/jIcs7wl47H0iO2MeD6M4quMGH-pQNPtpQCLcBGAs/s1600/bending%2Bfoward.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2ZLVZdIhMb4/WezVdxhFyXI/AAAAAAAAP6E/jIcs7wl47H0iO2MeD6M4quMGH-pQNPtpQCLcBGAs/s200/bending%2Bfoward.jpg" width="133" /></a>The inside of the bales will still continue to decompose (shrink) over time. Use it as a challenge to bend a little more gaining balance as you do. I was thinking about when I came home from the hospital after my stroke. I was asked to bend forward (as to the floor) without losing my balance. It wasn't very far. Now, I can pick things up from the floor without losing my balance. It's a gradual process to relearn, but an inch at a time is progress. A decomposing bale of hay can be used as a tool towards recovery.<br /><br />A word of caution here. I actually lived a pretty organic, self sufficient lifestyle for decades before my strokes. So I tend to do things on a grander scale than most stroke survivors will, because I had the knowledge and experience previously. Now, it's just getting around to do it again.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible. </div><br />&nbsp; <br /><br /><br /><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-57420096136842167982017-11-05T06:30:00.000-05:002017-11-05T06:30:11.197-05:00Sunday Stroke Survival: I'm Still Crazy. Where Are You?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-COrMBpTkn6A/WeygvpQjxvI/AAAAAAAAP3o/ZQI-1emGW8Qfb82cbfyzEsoN2IDWlUTxwCLcBGAs/s1600/crazt%2Blike%2BA%2Bbad%2Bthing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="512" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-COrMBpTkn6A/WeygvpQjxvI/AAAAAAAAP3o/ZQI-1emGW8Qfb82cbfyzEsoN2IDWlUTxwCLcBGAs/s200/crazt%2Blike%2BA%2Bbad%2Bthing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Guess which shirt I'm wearing today? &lt;<i>grinning</i>&gt; I love this shirt. In fact, I've got three of them in different colors. Don't I know I'm living post stroke? Aren't I limited by disabilities? Aren't you a sexagenarian? <i>Oh quit. Get your mind outta the gutter. It means someone in their 60s.</i><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7aiUDIZlAXU/WeykI88pPTI/AAAAAAAAP34/l9BtHDvM0WQRA9OeIsmzJzbYKgxsw-uLgCLcBGAs/s1600/checkbox_yes.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="100" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7aiUDIZlAXU/WeykI88pPTI/AAAAAAAAP34/l9BtHDvM0WQRA9OeIsmzJzbYKgxsw-uLgCLcBGAs/s1600/checkbox_yes.png" /></a><i>&nbsp;</i><br />I can say "yes" to all those things. But I have one ruling principle...<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">I ain't dead yet!</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">&nbsp;<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">So I'll continue being crazy enough to fulfill my life and challenge myself every day.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">I mean once the fat lady has sung her song. That's it. No more dreams. No more plans. No more nothing. You are bound for the hereafter. You have no choice in the matter. Until then, the choice is yours.&nbsp;</span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">There is something called hope.</span></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B8q-jPo9I34/WeynHXoNdpI/AAAAAAAAP4A/PfCdMa3STaYFhyKXXkA8pBa28iG7jofbwCLcBGAs/s1600/hope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="500" height="146" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B8q-jPo9I34/WeynHXoNdpI/AAAAAAAAP4A/PfCdMa3STaYFhyKXXkA8pBa28iG7jofbwCLcBGAs/s200/hope.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">... that you will recover from your stroke.</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">... that you will be out of pain.</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">...that you can move a limb or a piece of paralyzed limb. </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">... that God will give someone the wisdom so nobody else goes through this.</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">... that you get to spend another day enjoying the laughter of children echoed by your own.</span></span></span><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; ... to do one thing you hadn't done before.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">... to experience life another day to the fullest.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">What is your other option?&nbsp;</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">Despair.&nbsp;</span></span></span><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LO8kpGeJ8b8/WeypopFPgvI/AAAAAAAAP4I/uHeEH-G7JTI9zmQD13Uh2sOf0zI06VwaACLcBGAs/s1600/despair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="944" height="158" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LO8kpGeJ8b8/WeypopFPgvI/AAAAAAAAP4I/uHeEH-G7JTI9zmQD13Uh2sOf0zI06VwaACLcBGAs/s200/despair.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this image for despair</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">there is nothing left to live for...</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">you can contribute nothing...</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">I'm just a burden to everyone... </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">you are no longer a productive member of society...</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">you are worthless in your infirmities...&nbsp;</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">why bother doing anything because no one expects you to...</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">X, Y, or Z will do it for me better and faster...</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">X, Y, or Z owe it to me...</span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">&nbsp;I can tell you from personal experiences that despair gives nothing back. It's a killer of any joy you might have. Despair is a spirit killer. It does nothing for you or anybody else. Everyone has moments of despair. But that's just it...they are moments. They don't chose to stay there. Or shouldn't. In living post stroke, you will visit despair quite often. Recovery is fraught with failed attempts and dashed hopes. Just read a few of my blogs over the past five years and you'll see that I'm not immuned to despair. </span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">Or, are you somewhere in between? At times, I feel like a yo-yo because I go back and forth between these two emotions. That's okay. Most times, I constantly chose the hope side. It actually is a choice on how you live your life.</span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">May I always be crazy enough to</span></span></span></span><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ik0F241DBGk/WeyvBFOUdcI/AAAAAAAAP4Y/MdY2gBJSywA5xxpeKdSeaUy-UuQBMCZbACLcBGAs/s1600/crazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ik0F241DBGk/WeyvBFOUdcI/AAAAAAAAP4Y/MdY2gBJSywA5xxpeKdSeaUy-UuQBMCZbACLcBGAs/s200/crazy.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">...to test boundaries of what I can do.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">... try new things.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">... figure out how to redo the things I used to do.Especially what I loved to do.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">... figure out how to succeed, no matter how many attempts it takes.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">...remember the distinction between attempts and failure.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">...keep despair down to moments.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">...failure is not an option so long as I keep trying.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">...there are no limits, just opportunities.</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ... God is the creator and inspiration and I'm just a copycat. </span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; ... God is the spearhead and I'm just the rod. He points the way and I follow.</span></span></span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nothing is impossible. &nbsp; </span></span></span></span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"></span></span><br /><i> </i>J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-15911504327270918422017-10-29T06:30:00.000-04:002017-10-29T06:30:00.922-04:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Clean Up and Preparing for Winter<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DoLFK3iBMqw/WeTh9DPZxHI/AAAAAAAAP2Q/hwnMjRKRFnACvmHKt0gZdNfsZV7KH1VZwCLcBGAs/s1600/Time-flies%2Bzoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="638" height="112" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DoLFK3iBMqw/WeTh9DPZxHI/AAAAAAAAP2Q/hwnMjRKRFnACvmHKt0gZdNfsZV7KH1VZwCLcBGAs/s200/Time-flies%2Bzoom.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time now has jet engines</td></tr></tbody></table>My goodness it's the end of October already! This year, just like previous years, has flown by. Why is it when you are younger times drags. A month until your birthday seems to last years, but now it's zoomed up to and passed so quickly?<br /><br />October is a rough month for me emotionally. It's our anniversary month and my beloved's birthday. Both of them have passed now so I'm doing better. The only bright spot in it is my youngest grandson's, Murphey, birthday. It's hard to believe he's two years old already.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EEia1pehJuA/WeTlTd8C31I/AAAAAAAAP2c/4NTipKgQuTogObU43qyiQtU6rYAVsRL-QCLcBGAs/s1600/brush.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="148" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EEia1pehJuA/WeTlTd8C31I/AAAAAAAAP2c/4NTipKgQuTogObU43qyiQtU6rYAVsRL-QCLcBGAs/s1600/brush.png" /></a>We were hit by a tropical storm and had a brush by of another one this year. It left us a huge mess on our homestead. Trees, limbs, branches, twigs. and leaves all over the place. So far between Mel and I we've picked up three 4x6x4 piles of the stuff and that's only from the driveway and walkway areas. These three piles have been sorted between limbs that need a chainsaw or handsaw to cut, those we can break into 2' sections for kindling, and twigs also to be used for kindling. We need a variety of sizes to keep our wood stove going for heat every winter and a lot of it. Our wood stove isn't the most efficient model at burning wood, but it keeps us warm on even the frostiest of nights. That's what is really important. All I know is that I'm tired of picking up tree trash and there's still tons more to pick up. We haven't touched the six piles the driveway and orchard clearing made.<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rhfmrZ2QrFo/WeTooxINrWI/AAAAAAAAP2s/AVHtXuXa8A4wMbQ_few9Crp9FV-lqcKKACLcBGAs/s1600/falling-clipart-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1114" data-original-width="1293" height="171" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rhfmrZ2QrFo/WeTooxINrWI/AAAAAAAAP2s/AVHtXuXa8A4wMbQ_few9Crp9FV-lqcKKACLcBGAs/s200/falling-clipart-1.jpg" width="200" /></a>I took two tumbles this week. Once out in the yard. My AFO foot foot got tangled in vines and I went down hard. To make matters worse, my functioning knee landed&nbsp; on a twig which broke on impact driving it just under my knee cap. I managed to get up on one knee, but my functioning knee would not bear my weight. It was severely traumatized and bruised. I had to call for Mel to help me up. Later that same day, my foot got hung on a cat zipping by to get out of my way. Down I went again. My functioning knee is now not only bruised but I got a nice rug burn through my pants leg. I've been hobbling around on it very gingerly for the past couple days.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g8ws9yCsUM4/WeTr8IOKyAI/AAAAAAAAP24/AeVjwOWU2Pcac9bTS-d4QbrQax-lpqHEACLcBGAs/s1600/skillet%2Bchicken%2Bpot%2Bpie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="450" height="160" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g8ws9yCsUM4/WeTr8IOKyAI/AAAAAAAAP24/AeVjwOWU2Pcac9bTS-d4QbrQax-lpqHEACLcBGAs/s200/skillet%2Bchicken%2Bpot%2Bpie.jpg" width="200" /></a>All my hard work canning this summer is paying off. Now, I shop for groceries in the barn (for meats) or the storage building for canned goods and staples instead of driving to the grocery store. It's a lot easier popping a lid off a canning jar than using a can opener to pry lids off cans. Chicken pot pies are a cinch to make with canned chicken and vegetable soup. There's always a thin layer of fat to start the gravy with on each jar. Add some four as the thickener with the broth from the soup and I got gravy. The hardest thing is rolling out the pastry top. It's a quick thirty minute meal once the pastry work is done.<br /><br />I bought some of those reusable grocery bags for shopping at all places. It makes carrying heavy loads of groceries on my non functioning arm a breeze. Since it is frozen at a 50 degree angle, by spasticity most of the time, I'm making applesauce with a bad situation. But I'll be happier with a functioning elbow again when the functional neurosurgeon gets finished with me. It'll take a few more trips.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xlMOcYWfkls/WeTvRfgWuQI/AAAAAAAAP3E/YHgQ5BDOmaMNi0TEkEIMeThtgrr0zTHvwCLcBGAs/s1600/barrel%2Bwood%2Bstove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="150" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xlMOcYWfkls/WeTvRfgWuQI/AAAAAAAAP3E/YHgQ5BDOmaMNi0TEkEIMeThtgrr0zTHvwCLcBGAs/s200/barrel%2Bwood%2Bstove.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I bought four 4-ft florescent lights for the barn. Now that is a well lit 14'x24' space all year around. It has an old barrel wood stove in it for the colder months. Mel built it to heat the house back when she was One Woman and Two Acres. After a failed attempt to make it work for the house, it was relegated to the barn. Just like everything else, but that's another story. It works fine out there. In fact, it will heat so well that it'll run you out of there just to cool off. A welcome change when there's snow on the ground. I'm just waiting for Tractor Supply to stock some more stove pipe. The single ply pipe Mel bought has rusted through in spots. I may just buy single ply again because it lasted three seasons. It's cheap enough for the metal barn. If it was insulated, it would be better, but I'm not going to that expense.<br /><br />Living post stroke is adventure nobody, in their right mind, would want. But life is life and it's worth living to its fullest no matter who you are or what you're dealing with. Take it one step at a time and keep going.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br /><br /><br /><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-55404160607153096342017-10-22T06:30:00.000-04:002017-10-22T06:30:11.238-04:00Sunday Stroke Survival: Back in Business Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SETNTfSlHz0/WeEId-mp-zI/AAAAAAAAP1I/GA3GyKFzI8ghT0I3fys-DKhT8awy72EFwCLcBGAs/s1600/cheering.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="236" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SETNTfSlHz0/WeEId-mp-zI/AAAAAAAAP1I/GA3GyKFzI8ghT0I3fys-DKhT8awy72EFwCLcBGAs/s200/cheering.png" width="200" /></a></div>Okay, I'll admit my blog has been a living post stroke downer of late, but today that changes back to the old me. &lt;<i>the cheering section goes wild</i>&gt;<br /><br />After almost a week of being off my feet, I was itching to be back at it again. Yes, of course, I took it slow. Sort of. Well what can I say? Y'all know me.&nbsp; &lt;<i>Grinning</i>&gt;<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QhPgZtInmY0/WeELWNzOZJI/AAAAAAAAP1U/BkgMrN4L9lgchFfDQPJZvlFkxc7SpVyWgCLcBGAs/s1600/goldenrod.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QhPgZtInmY0/WeELWNzOZJI/AAAAAAAAP1U/BkgMrN4L9lgchFfDQPJZvlFkxc7SpVyWgCLcBGAs/s200/goldenrod.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />It's ragweed season in northern Georgia. My allergies just love ragweed. Yes, I called my PCP and got all my meds refilled. But more than that, it's Goldenrod season! To most folks, Goldenrod are a pretty yellow flower that grows like weeds in pastures and along road sides. Actually they are weeds, but to me they spell M-O-N-E-Y. Money you say? Yes, it's like money in the bank to me because this innocuous weed is my source for a natural yellow dye for wool and it's free.<br /><br />I went out with my half bushel baskets and filled it up one just driving to the main road. That's only what I could reach safely. Well all right, I did fall once. But, I got right back up and continued picking. I continued my harvesting along the main road gathering another two half bushel baskets. I did stop by the cattle farm less than a quarter mile away and asked to go into his hay pasture to gather some. Yes, I was careful not to squash his hay or fall again. I just went around the edges where his tractor went and I gathered pounds of the flowers. He even allowed me to take my van and drive around as I gathered the flowers which was extremely nice of him. In the old days, pre-strokes, I could have walked around his field with no problem. Now especially with a healing decubitus ulcer on my foot, not so much.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YiBVcXCjf20/WeERqBA1ZXI/AAAAAAAAP1k/fKca9xoX6uEuuEdwnEc-UYvPZTddLmgUACLcBGAs/s1600/basket-assortment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="439" height="113" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YiBVcXCjf20/WeERqBA1ZXI/AAAAAAAAP1k/fKca9xoX6uEuuEdwnEc-UYvPZTddLmgUACLcBGAs/s200/basket-assortment.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>You might ask where I found my half bushel baskets. Well, it's part of my homesteading mentality of reuse/ repurpose everything. Over the past couple years, I'd bought a bushel and a half of peaches. I'd also bought sweet potatoes, and assorted other vegetables in bulk. I always saved these items and stored them in the barn. I've got large stacks of them. I always asked the farmer if they wanted them back because I know they had to purchase them. If they didn't, I kept them. I reuse them to harvest herbs and assorted other items from our garden. They are pretty well made. Not as good as a grape vine or wicker basket, but considering they were free to me why not reuse it until it falls apart? It's not hard to find reuses for almost everything, if you think about it.<br /><br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WgndKDQEOms/WeEXNAGIkrI/AAAAAAAAP10/ViBZbm-vMk0OPPwikG_SKTJ_2bHrofSOACLcBGAs/s1600/goldenrod%2Bdye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="736" height="148" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WgndKDQEOms/WeEXNAGIkrI/AAAAAAAAP10/ViBZbm-vMk0OPPwikG_SKTJ_2bHrofSOACLcBGAs/s200/goldenrod%2Bdye.jpg" width="200" /></a>Anyhow, I gathered my three half bushel baskets full and headed home with my prize. Normally when space was limited, I'd gather them up by the stems, tie them off, and hang them up to dry. This time, I couldn't be bothered. My foot was also throbbing like mad. I left them in the baskets to dry. Every couple of days, I'll flip them over in the baskets. They are drying nicely. Within a couple of weeks they'll be ready to use anytime I want to dye wool. Now, wouldn't you call that money in the bank too?<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7okVaLb3NnU/WeEZsO6PzJI/AAAAAAAAP2A/E17hd1eivS4G5d4T2UFX8zHpxFe2UHrOgCLcBGAs/s1600/zaycon-horiz-png-500x182px.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="182" data-original-width="500" height="72" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7okVaLb3NnU/WeEZsO6PzJI/AAAAAAAAP2A/E17hd1eivS4G5d4T2UFX8zHpxFe2UHrOgCLcBGAs/s200/zaycon-horiz-png-500x182px.png" width="200" /></a>I also got my order from <a href="https://www.zayconfresh.com/refer/cockeyedhomestead" target="_blank">Zaycon</a> Fresh. A 40 lb box of boneless, skinless chicken thighs. I'd already planned to can this shipment. After living in hurricane country for as many years as I did, I learned the importance of not having all your meat products in the freezer. Heat and eat becomes the norm when dealing with days of power outages. Even up here, we lost power with tropical storm Irma and power outages in winter. I decided I wanted to par cook them on the charcoal grill. Ooh, yummy for the tummy! Being my one functioning handed self, it was a two day process. The first day was spent grilling off and rough chopping all that meat into 2" pieces. The second was packing the chicken into jars and pressure canning it. But now, I've got pre seasoned chicken, canned in its own juices, and ready for whatever I want to make with it. Chicken and dumplings, over simply heated and put over rice or noodles, and oh the chicken salad it can make...just to name a few options. One jar of two full canner loads, 40 jars, didn't seal so it's ear marked for chicken salad this week. The broth will season a pan of risotto. But after messing with all that chicken, it's chili for supper tonight.<br /><br />So as you can see, I'm back to normal. Or at least, my living post stroke normal.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing is impossible.</div><br />J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1904685628370887899.post-13007238842631435832017-10-17T09:41:00.003-04:002017-10-17T09:41:40.793-04:00Touching Email and Thank You Readers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKNNh8i970w/WeYDphp47kI/AAAAAAAAP3Y/45yanJyGZgE2fwbON6S7Hvn5tMG8WaxJgCLcBGAs/s1600/heartinhand%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKNNh8i970w/WeYDphp47kI/AAAAAAAAP3Y/45yanJyGZgE2fwbON6S7Hvn5tMG8WaxJgCLcBGAs/s200/heartinhand%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I received an email from a lady in Tennessee a couple of weeks ago that touched my heart greatly. No, it wasn't from this blog, but my other blog at the Cockeyed Homestead and it touched my heart at a time when I really needed it.<br /><br />I have readers that have been with me for years. Only a few actually comment, but many other email me through the contact option. Sometimes, I forget what an impact my blog has on others. I'm just chatting away on things in my life. It's a saga...a never ending story that is my life. I hope to inspire, motivate, and bless others with my blogs.<br /><br />I don't always know for sure even with the high hit counts in the analysis charts. Many may just scan a bit and find out it's not what they were looking for like I do when researching a subject. The internet is great for that. But to know someone is actually reading and digesting what I've written is great. To know that I've actually succeeded in my goal is awesome. It is a reaffirmation to me that I really am answering a calling by blogging.<br /><br />Thank you readers.J.L. Murpheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11782355786883006411noreply@blogger.com3